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Summary
Nemesis still vividly recalls the contented sound the princess had made as she’d submerged her body beneath the waters of the hot spring, her eyes closing with simple delight. Like such a rest was really owed to her. To them.
With irritation, Nemesis had stalked away, visions of bared softness and gold clinging to flesh and lean muscle rippling filling her mind. All she’d been able to hear was the rush of her own blood in her ears, accompanied by the memory of Melinoë sighing with contentment.
Nemesis had been sick with it, anger flooding molten through her.
In which Nemesis can't get the princess out of her head.