Valkhara
when the towel hit the floor so did my last shred of self-control.
I should’ve run. Should’ve slammed the door and locked it behind me. But the look in their eyes? That unhinged, starved heat? It rooted me to the floor like my legs forgot what fleeing meant.
Azric’s pupils were blown wide, his lips parted like he was tasting my thoughts. Because he was.
And Sevrin? He didn’t even pretend to be calm. His chest heaved with every breath, muscles tight, jaw locked like he was holding back a war.
“You don’t want this,” I whispered to myself, lying to all three of us.
Azric’s smile was wicked. “That’s funny. Because your mind is screaming otherwise.”
I lunged to slap him.
He caught my wrist mid-air and spun me so fast my back hit his chest. “Still pretending, Valkhara?”
“f**k
