The voices in the hall faded, footsteps echoing away into the dormitory hush.
I leaned against the kitchen counter, still gripping Asher’s hand, my breath shallow and uneven.
The world outside the window was drenched in crimson from the blood moon.
Its light slanted across Asher’s face, sharpening the cut of his jaw and the curve of his lips.
I could see the line of muscle down his neck, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.
Something shifted between us. The air suddenly grew thick, charged. I felt it in my bones, the mate bond thrumming, urgent and electric, like the moon itself was tugging us closer.
Without a word, Asher stepped in. His hands cupped my face, thumbs brushing along my jaw, gentle and reverent.
He searched my eyes, as if asking permission for something
