Alaric, his self-proclaimed heroic act complete, reached out and firmly grasped both Queen Margaret and Royal Consort Josephine by their exposed midriffs. The rough tear in their elegant gowns had left a significant portion of their slender waists bare, and Alaric's fingers deliberately pressed against their soft skin, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary.
'Soft,' Alaric thought, a flicker of satisfaction in his ruby eyes. 'And they're already relying on me.'
Queen Margaret felt a jolt of surprise at Alaric's touch, but she suppressed a gasp. Her mind was racing. This young man, Alaric Steele, had just saved them from a terrifying ordeal. She recognized him instantly, his reputation preceding him. She wanted to reveal their identities, to thank him properly, but a sudden thought held her back.
