Scarlet
I was sitting at my desk, pretending to focus on the pile of documents in front of me, because my mind was elsewhere when I felt it—the distinct prickle on the back of my neck and Lyra’s excitement told me Damien was near. I glanced up, and there he was, leaning against the doorframe of the office. His arms were crossed, and that smug, unreadable expression I’d come to associate with him was firmly in place.
“Do you need something?” I asked, trying to sound neutral. My voice betrayed me slightly, tilting upward in nervousness.
He didn’t answer right away, just stared at me with those piercing eyes that always seemed to see too much. After a few agonizing seconds, he finally pushed off the doorframe and strode toward me with his usual quiet confidence.
“I was thinking,” he began
