The tunnel narrowed, forcing them into single file. Draven went first, his shoulders brushing the rough stone on either side, his presence filling the confined space. The air was damp, tasting faintly of minerals and old bones. Behind them, the sound of claws scraped against stone—light at first, then heavier, faster.
Elaria’s heart pounded, not just from the chase, but from the memory of his hand in her hair, the heat in his eyes when he said we’ll finish this later.
She hadn’t agreed to anything. She hadn’t wanted to agree. But the truth was in the way her skin still tingled where his fingers had brushed it, in the way her body remembered him even when her mind told her not to.
Draven stopped abruptly, one hand shooting out to steady her. His palm landed on her waist, the warmth of it
