"Human," Yoru called in a voice of a huntress luring in a prey. " Come over here. I need you to tend to my dress."
Damon stared at her back for several seconds.
The invitation sounded innocent, which alone made it beyond suspicious.
His gaze shifted toward the discarded hairpins resting on the bedside table before returning to Yoru.
"I'm not a servant," he finally said in a tone even colder than he intended it to be.
She responded without turning. "You see, my servants can't tend to me... not with a human staying in my chamber three nights longer than anticipated."
Damon immediately regretted opening his mouth.
Yoru sat at the edge of the bed with perfect posture, her long black hair spilling down her back like liquid shadow. Her wing shifted lazily before settling again.
She waited patiently with the quiet certainty of someone accustomed to having the world adjust itself around her.
Damon sighed.
"This feels like a trap."
"It is."
