The movements looked casual, as if they were drifting from one position in the room to another without any real reason, but when they stopped, Daemon and Lucivar were flanking the women. Theran had the impression that no matter what they personally thought about what had just happened, they would support and defend their wives—and Cassidy.

Gray looked anxious and uncertain when he and Saetan rejoined their tense little group, and he stared at Cassidy’s face for so long all three women squirmed.

“Now,” Saetan said, his voice a velvet-coated whip.

Theran felt his shoulders tighten in response to that sound. This was a voice that allowed no challenge, no discussion, no defiance.

“Every relationship requires compromises,” Saetan said. “So those compromises are going to be established here and now.”

A moment of silence, as if the High Lord was giving all of them an opportunity to be dumb enough to argue.

“Since Lady Cassidy’s freckles are important to Gray, they will not be altered in any way,” Saetan said.

“But . . . ,” Cassidy began.

“In. Any. Way.”

Cassidy hunched her shoulders. “Yes, sir.”

“In return, Gray, you must accept that women like to paint their faces, adding color to eyes, lips, and cheeks.”

“Why do they want to do that?” Gray asked, his eyes still fixed on Cassidy’s face as if something might disappear the moment he looked away.

“Boyo,” Saetan said, “I’ve been observing females for over fifty thousand years, and I can’t tell you why they do what they do. Don’t expect to understand how they think;just understand that some things are important to them that are incomprehensible to us, and learn to work with their way of thinking when you have to.”

“Like putting color on her face?” Gray asked.

“Exactly,” Saetan replied. “Although . . . a woman using face paints to enhance her beauty can be intriguing.”

Theran watched Gray’s face change, watched anxiety shift to curiosity.

“Darkening the lashes, for instance, to draw more attention to her eyes,” Saetan said.

“Cassie has pretty eyes,” Gray said.

“Putting a little gold dust on the cheeks—and other places—so the skin glitters in candlelight,” Daemon purred. “But that’s usually reserved for romantic dinners.”

“Daemon.”

Watching Jaenelle blush gave Theran a good idea of how those romantic dinners ended—and the room suddenly got much too warm.

“Now, the hair,” Saetan said.

Gray whimpered.

“Changing the color would be an insult to every man who admires beauty, so it will not be changed.”

Now Cassidy whimpered.

“However, you, Gray, have to accept that, like their faces, women like to play with their hair, putting it up in different styles or even cutting it.”

“Cut?” Gray sounded alarmed.

“Compromise, Prince,” Saetan said in that voice that allowed no challenge.

After a moment, Gray nodded. “Okay. I won’t get upset if she cuts her hair.”

“Then we’re agreed.”