Artemisia
“Missy, are you alright?” Cayden asks, and even if he does sound worried, his voice has a strange tone to it.
“Mh-mhm,” I nod my head repeatedly, hoping he would just go away.
“Doesn’t look like it,” he insists, taking a step towards me.
Lifting my hand, I stop him. “No… Please…”
By fighting my pleasure, and Fynn’s feelings streaming through me, I can’t seem to form a coherent sentence.
I feel his excitement for the chase growing, and I get flooded by my own desire for him to catch me that even Cassy squirms with pleasant anticipation.
But maybe her demeanour is more due to Cayden’s darkening gaze as Fynn’s craving to claim us.
As expected, Cayden doesn’t listen to me and keeps getting closer. His expression morphing, losing its worried traits, is my gruesome confir
