You’re shaking," he observes, his voice a low, vibrating against my jaw.
"I'm not," I lie, my breath hitching as his fingers catch the hem of my shirt.
Liar," he murmurs. He doesn't pull the fabric away yet. Instead, he rests his palm flat against my stomach, his skin searingly hot against mine.
He waits, forcing me to feel every frantic beat of my heart against his hand.
"You're terrified I’m going to vanish the second the sun comes up”
"Can you blame me?" I counter, my fingers tangled in the hair on his head, pulling him closer.
"Look at me, Mara," he commands.
I do. His eyes are black holes, swallowing the little light left in the room. There’s no hesitation there now—no "visibility" concerns or logical exits.
Just a raw, terrifying hunger that makes my blood turn to liquid fi
