'I hate this…' Kirja muttered under her breath, feeling Cassian's hands creeping along her slim waist. He seemed to take quiet pleasure in it, her body deceptively youthful, though in truth she was middle-aged compared to other Circle Warriors. Age didn't matter much for someone like her, but her appearance—strong, disciplined, and capable—belied her true years.
Still, she despised his sneaky touches, the way his hands slid over her without permission. She wanted to strike, to crush them, cut them off entirely—but she couldn't. She was under him now, and any misstep might provoke him to act against her sister. She knew, in theory, that her strong will could break the slave magic, but in practice it was far harder than it sounded. Forming another Circle, or asserting that kind of freedom, was no simple task.
