Valtira.
I hated that my body betrayed me every time Zarek touched me, hated that a single brush of his fingers could send a slow, insistent fire crawling through my veins and make the skin along my arms and neck tingle in ways I had sworn I would never allow again.
Last night replayed on a cruel loop behind my eyes—each kiss, every heated press of his mouth to mine, the way the world narrowed until it consisted only of him and the heat between us—and no amount of force of will could wrench those memories away.
Then the image of him with Danika slid into that fragile space like a blade, and the thought of him giving her what should have been mine made my chest constrict and my stomach knot in an ugly, jealous pain that tasted like ash in my mouth.
I hated it more than anything, hated
