I blinked. “What?”
He tilted his head, lips barely twitching into a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. “You’re full of fire. Let it out.”
“I didn’t come here to spar with you.”
“You came to tell me off. So do it properly.”
He was baiting me.
And I took it.
Because every fiber of my body was still burning from the funeral, from Astrid’s haunted eyes, from his refusal to just listen. I needed an outlet. And apparently, that outlet had a face carved by the gods and a tendency to infuriate me more than anyone else alive.
“Fine,” I growled, pulling off my hoodie and tossing it to the side.
I shouldn’t have. Not with the way his eyes immediately dropped to take me in—slow, shameless, and utterly maddening.
Damien didn’t even try to pretend otherwise. His gaze slid from my bare shoul
