ARIA’S POV
Damien pulled away, his eyes never leaving my face.
They shone like the surface of the moon, hardened with ridges, and tempted by the sun’s brightness.
“Damien…”
My voice was barely above a whisper.
He bent behind the desk and pulled out a stick from one of its drawers.
He handed me the polished, smooth piece of wood.
“This is for you,” he said.
I looked up, puzzled, my emotions a jungle of vines.
“Why?”
“You will find out soon, Aria Sinclair.”
He kissed me then.
His lips tasted desperate.
We stayed locked in an embrace for what felt like an eternity, but I knew it was only a few seconds.
He nodded towards the door.
“I will see you back at the party. Hold on to the baton.”
I looked down at the instrument in my hands.
I couldn’t bring myself to say anything.
Bei
