Jay returned from Melita’s room, and the silence that enveloped the lodge was not peaceful; it was explosive. The fire had settled into glowing embers, casting long, dramatic shadows that seemed to stretch and distort the reality of the room.
He didn't look at Amara immediately. He walked to the mantelpiece and picked up the rum bottle, pouring a generous measure into his empty glass. He didn't offer her any this time. He just drank it down in one focused, deliberate swallow, as if bracing himself for impact.
“She’s fine,” he clipped out, his voice low and tight. “Just a bad dream.”
“You left so quickly,” Amara said, her voice shaking slightly, betraying the impact of the near-kiss. “I thought you were going to…”
“I was,” he admitted, his amber eyes finally meeting hers. They were scor
