Alora
A growl rumbles past Dimitri’s lips at my act of defiance. It's the kind of sound that vibrates through the air rather than simply being heard. He studies me for a long, unreadable moment. Like he is peeling me apart layer by layer. My pulse hammers against my ribs, too loud, too fast. I fight to slow it, to keep my breathing even, to not let the tremor that's building in my hands reveal itself. His gaze drops — not to my throat, not to my chest like I thought it might — but instead to my mouth. And before I can stop myself, my tongue darts out, tracing a path along my bottom lip.
Traitor.
The word ricochets through my skull, sharp and a bit more panicked. His description of what's happening here as a game is starting to look more and more accurate as time passes. And I'm wonderin
