Glen stepped into the library, letting the door click shut behind him with barely a sound.
The air was thick with the scent of old paper, oak wood, and that unmistakable masculine fragrance clinging to Etien's body. Glen didn't move closer right away. He stood there, watching the figure curled up on the velvet sofa.
His gaze locked on the cloak draped over Etien, Reiner's cloak. A cold stab of jealousy twisted in his gut at the sight of another man's garment covering what was his.
Moving with quiet, deliberate steps, Glen approached. He seized the edge of Reiner's cloak, tugged it free with slow disdain, folded it carelessly, and tossed it onto the farthest chair as though it were trash cluttering the view. In its place, he shrugged off his own black cloak and draped it over Etien's body.
"You worry too damn loud, Earl Reiner," Glen muttered under his breath, though the man he addressed was nowhere near to hear it.
