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“The bucket is dry,” he answered before taking another bite of his apple with a slurp. He chewed and then pushed what was remaining in his mouth between his cheek and teeth to talk. “How did you heat the water then?”

She bit her lips together, a small lump forming in her throat. She said nothing.

Amalia hadn’t been thinking clearly because of her flustered thoughts. She’d filled the tub in the way she did back in her cottage, how she had done all her life – with magic.

“You know,” he said, shaking that finger towards her. “I have been waiting for you to slip up.”

He still hadn’t looked at her, the apple in his hand holding his fascination while he ate it.

“You think I have not known, but I have been able to sense you using magic in my lair. I have been unable to catch you in the act. I have had no proof.” His silver eyes finally slipped to catch hers with a ruthless, narrowed stare. “How did you fill the tub, Witch?”

“Okay, fine! You were not in your Dragon form, and I wished to bathe. I cannot carry the water myself. It is too far. I filled the tub and then heated it with my magic.”

She eyed the apple core when he threw it behind him, glaring at it since she knew she would be the one that had to clean it up later.

Then he approached her, and she wanted nothing more than to shrink away. He placed both his hands on the edges of the tub she was in and leaned above her.

His face crinkled into one of rage.

“You used two spells in my home when I explicitly told you never to use magic here!”

It was a snarl, a hate-filled glare.

“Well, why not?!” she yelled back, not liking being cornered naked like this. “Why can I not use magic?”

“Because it is witchcraft, and I do not like it.”

“You said that my kind comes from yours, yes?”

His anger didn’t fade, but he did frown. “So?”

“Then do we not share the same magic?” His face turned into one of horror right before he growled and came closer. Amalia realised she had deeply offended him. “If my magic comes from Dragons and humans mating, then it is the same.”

He backed away, shoving himself by using the sides of the tub to stand straight.

“No, it is not! It smells different, looks different. Your magic is foul. Mine is not.”

“But I am not harming anyone! I have seen you use magic in a similar way. All I did was fill a tub with water and warm it for myself. Why can I not do that?”

“Because it is not dragoncraft, but witchcraft. Mine cannot be corrupted, it cannot be used as evil or dark magic. There are properties in witchcraft that make it twisted.” She could see he was seething and that he might explode at any second. “And you will not use it again in my home!”

“Only moments before I felt something, and this has made me realise why it should not matter.” He cocked his head at that before his brows furrowed deeply. “And I will not allow you to think you have me cornered here to yell at me for no reason!”

Amalia, still covering her breasts with one hand, reached for the edge of the tub and stood. She turned her head away from him when he reared his head back, surprised that she would allow him to see her naked body when she never had before.

She wouldn’t allow him to think that he could push her into a corner because she was unclothed.

She swiftly walked over to the bed where her dress lay and pulled it over her body. Just as she finally popped her head through the neck hole, her arms slithering down the sleeves, she felt hands grab her wrists and hold them up.

“I am angry for good reason. Do not tell me otherwise,” he snapped. “I told you that I would not tolerate it.”

Amalia tried to twist her arms from his hold but was unable to free herself from his strength.

“Let go of me!” she screamed at his face, bringing them closer without a shred of fear.

“No.” He pushed her, making her legs catch on the edge of the bed. They both went tumbling onto it. “Now promise me you will not use witchcraft again!”

Amalia didn’t like that Rurik was between her thighs with his body pressing deeply between the centre of them while pinning her hands to the bed. Her face grew hot, her chest flushed, and not even his snarling face did anything to make her forget that, not long before, she had held desire for the angry man above her.