Avery knelt there, her arms still raised high, her mind a swirl of confusion as Cassius pressed his face into her sweaty armpit. She had no idea what was happening—why he was doing this, what it meant. But a strange mix of sensations washed over her.
His breath tickled her skin, warm and soft, and the faint brush of his cheek felt oddly nice, almost comforting.
Up close, his handsome features struck her anew—those sharp lines, those crimson eyes glinting with something she couldn't place and for a fleeting moment, she felt an urge to pull him closer, to cuddle him like some oversized pup.
But then reality snapped back, cold and jarring.
'He's...sniffing me.' She realized, panic flaring as her face flushed hot. Her arms twitched, instinct urging her to yank them down, to hide the damp, musky shame she'd bared.
She started to lower them, her voice a flustered stammer. "Y-Young Master, wait—"
