The tension in the kitchen was still vibrating in the air like a pulled wire, a taut, dangerous energy that seemed to consume the oxygen in the room. Nicholas hadn't moved; he was still standing too close, his presence a dark, immovable force that made the small kitchen feel like a trap I had built for myself. His eyes, usually so controlled and icy, were currently a storm of possessiveness and unresolved hunger.
"Don't," I whispered, the word barely escaping my lips. I wasn't even sure if I was telling him to stop what he was doing or if I was pleading with myself to finally stay put and stop running.
Before he could answer, the sharp, cheerful sound of the front door opening shattered the moment. My mother’s voice rang out through the house, melodic and utterly unsuspecting. "Chloe? Ar
