Two steps later he turned, retraced his path and flicked the lock, not putting Sahara down to do it. The lock wasn’t much of a deterrent to a warrior, but it would function as an audible warning if someone was stupid enough to kick his door open. Tor was scowling and had been since he opened the door of the tower and picked Sahara up for the sprint to his rooms. On a Leonor male, scowling was an unusual display of emotion and warned anyone of violent intent should they not find a way out of his path. Striding through his personal lair, he headed directly to the shower. Standing her beside the large enclosure, Tor didn’t bother saving her simple dress this time. She wouldn’t need clothing for a while anyway. Hooking a claw in the neckline, he cut it off her with a single swipe down. “Hey. Watch it with the claws,” Sahara exclaimed in surprise. “I’m good with the claws and you love it,” he informed her smugly as he sat on the side of his tub to pull off boots and unlace the front of his pants.
