My heart hammered my chest. It was the only sound in the room. A wave of heat washed over me and I began to sweat. Tristan just sat there, watching me, one booted ankle balanced over his other knee. I took a deep breath and tried to assess my situation. A sadness hung in the air. There was no menace or anger, just a halo of melancholy. Taking another deep breath, I criss-crossed my legs and willed my heart to slow down. My hands flew up to try and tame my curls, tucking as much as I could behind my ears. Then I pulled my covers up to my chest, tucking my hands into my lap.
“Are you cold?” Tristan asked, frowning. He sat up in his chair. I shook my head. Heat was not an issue, I had heat in spades. A fresh wave of it flooded me at the sound of his voice. My main concern was leaving myself
