My pulse hammers a relentless beat as I shut the door behind me, the click of the latch chilling me to the bone. Darius's eyes, laced with dark intent, burn in my mind.
I peel off the dress as though shedding my skin, desperate to rid myself of its cloying presence.
I need to dress in something more practical.
In the privacy of the bathroom, I exchange the silken trappings for something simple, something me—black jeans and a black t-shirt.
Then, my fingers wrap around the hilt of my dagger.
He will come.
I know it. He will come and try to mate with me again.
The certainty of it sits in my stomach like a stone, heavy and cold.
I'm pacing now, the confines of the room suffocating, every creak of the floorboards a whisper of the impending doom.
I can fight, yes. I can scream,
