He took the form of mist. In the heavy fog it was unnoticeable, and he could...

He took the form of mist. In the heavy fog it was unnoticeable, and he could easily seep beneath her unsecured window. He watched her as she sank onto the bed. Her face was pale, her eyes haunted. She swept her mane of hair back, touching his mark as if it ached. It took her a few minutes to kick off her shoes, as if the task was too great.
Mikhail waited until she had flung herself facedown, fully clothed on the bed. He gave the order forcefully, expected her compliance as he slipped inside the room. His name echoed in his head, soft, drowsy, with a hint of amusement. She didn't fight it, but went under willingly, a smile curving her soft mouth.
Mikhail undressed her and slid her slender body beneath the covers. He safeguarded the door, a powerful spell guaranteed to keep even the strongest of his own people out, let alone pathetic mortal assassins. He secured the windows and provided the same guards at every possible entry point. Very gently he brushed his lips across her forehead, and then reached down to touch his brand on her neck before leaving her."