The Billionaire’s Secret Quartet (Thalassa and Elowen)

Chapter 1269
Thalassa couldn't help but feel a twinge of fear at Lysander’s icy gaze, which
pierced through her like a blade of winter. She quickly averted her eyes and
scurried towards the kitchen where a glass of untouched water sat next to the
kettle.
“I'll get you something to drink,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Thalassa reached for the glass, intending to hand it directly to Lysander, but
hesitated. Her hand paused in mid-air before she opted for an empty glass
instead, filling it with fresh water from the tap.
The abandoned glass had been filled for Callum just moments before Lysander’s
arrival. Given Lysander’s disdain for anything remotely associated with Callum,
even sitting on the same sheets, she dared not offer him a glass intended for
another man. It wasn't worth risking his wrath on the off chance he would find
out.
She approached Lysander with the new glass of water, offering it to him with a
tentative smile. “Here, have some water.”
Lysander’s deep-set eyes flicked to the glass and then back to her. “What about
you? Aren't you thirsty?” he asked, his voice smooth yet edged with something
she couldn't quite place.
Thalassa forced a smile. “I've had some earlier,” she replied. “Your saliva,
remember?” She trailed off, her tone playfully mocking.
Her attempt at humor, meant to needle him, was softened by her warm, impish
grin that sparkled like the morning sun-a comforting, penetrating light that
seemed to fill the
room.
Lysander’s gaze shifted, a ripple of something unspoken passing through him.
With a deft movement, he lifted her chin. “Maybe you should have another sip?”
he suggested, his voice low and possessive.
Thalassa recognized that intense look in his eyes-no one knew it better than she
did. The fear returned, and she quickly stepped back to avoid his touch. “No, I'm
not thirsty. You drink,” she insisted, pushing the glass toward him, her heart
pounding against her ribs.
She was a fool to think she could jest with him when he was in a better mood.
Lysander was a real tiger, a dangerous man who could snap at any moment.
He took the glass from her without a word, his long, masculine neck working with
each swallow. Thalassa watched, transfixed by the sight, feeling a surge of
something primal and intoxicating.
But as she stood there lost in her thoughts, he handed her the empty glass, his
expectant stare snapping her back to reality. She quickly placed the glass back
on the counter, the silence between them heavy and awkward.
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Just as Thalassa was about to sit
down on the bed, a strong hand
caught her by the elbow, pulling her
back up. She turned to Lysander in
: « 8 5 :
surprise. “I was just going to sit for a
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) :

Lysander's gaze slid to the
nightstand beside the bed, and he
cleared it with a sweep of his arm
before taking a seat himself. He then
pulled her close, guiding her down
onto his lap. His thighs were firm and
strong beneath her, radiating a heat
that made her heart race. Thalassa
tensed, instinctively wanting to flee,
but Lysander held her in place, his

s . “ ’
voice a husky whisper, “Easy, let's

: : "

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