Amara woke with the taste of smoke in her mouth, though the room smelled like nothing but stale sheets and Becky’s perfume. Her head pounded, her eyes ached. It hadn’t been a dream, not really. Dreams didn’t leave heat on her skin. Dreams didn’t make her heart race the way Leo had made it race.
She lay still for a long moment, staring at the ceiling, watching how the morning light fractured across it. Every shift of brightness reminded her of fire, of embers glowing where they shouldn’t. She pressed the back of her hand to her lips, as though that might erase the ghost of the night.
She sat up slowly, pressing her palms against her face, trying to rub away the memory. Leo’s hand on her arm. Leo’s eyes on her like she was already his. The weight of him, even without touching her fully, st
