(Kaelen)
I stand in front of the mirror longer than I should, fingers tracing the neckline of the dress. Blood red. Low enough that one wrong breath might spill everything. The silk clings to my hips like it was poured on, slit up one thigh just enough to make walking a dare. Dorian used to hate it. Said it made me look desperate. Cheap. Like I was begging for attention I didn’t deserve.
Perfect.
My hands shake a little as I smooth it down. Not nerves. Not exactly. It’s the memory of Theron’s mouth on mine at the waterfall, the way my body had melted against the rock like it had been waiting for him. I’d spent half the night replaying it, hating how good it felt. Hating how safe.
Tonight I’m done waiting for him to make the next move. Thirty days is a countdown, and I need Dorian to he
