DAPHNE
His fingers brush a stray lock of hair from my face, then trail lightly down to touch my arm. I jerk back instinctively. Getting intimate with Ezekiel is the last thing I want right now, not after what he did at the masquerade ball.
"I... I should go." I stammer, heart racing.
"Daphne."
God, why does he always say my name like that? Somehow, with him, my name has never sounded so... urgent, so heavy with meaning. It's strange, equal parts pleasant and absolutely maddening to my nerves.
He steps even closer, the air between us is charged, thick with something unspoken. His eyes hold mine, dark and steady, and I feel like I'm standing at the edge of something dangerous and thrilling all at once.
"You don’t have to leave." He speaks softly, voice low and steady, like a promise or
