Zaki Lee’s hand absently rubbed at his neck, but the corner of his lips curved ever so slightly—not from mockery, nor anger, but from a quiet fascination. There was something intoxicating about her distance, her untouchable nature, the way she seemed both fragile and lethal in the same breath.
For the first time since waking, he felt the absence of her warmth, and the emptiness pressed heavier than the bruise on his throat. Masking it, he crouched by the burnt-out fire and coaxed the embers back to life, his calm eyes following her figure.
Easther’s gaze flickered to the faint bruises she had left on him. Something unfamiliar twisted in her chest—an unease she quickly smothered beneath her usual mask of indifference.
Her lips parted, then closed again, as though weighing whether words w
