His hand cupped her breast, heavier than he’d expected, his thumb brushing across the peak with youthful vigor. Lyra gasped, arching into his touch like her body belonged to him already.
Clara bit her lip so hard it bled. 'He’s… touching her like he touched me. Rough. Hungry. Like he can’t help himself.'
She turned sharply, muttering under her breath. “I’ll… find cooking supplies. Something. Anything.” She needed the distance, needed to escape before the jealousy strangled her alive.
Kael stripped his own shirt away, muscles slick with sweat and blood, his smirk sharp as ever. “Don’t take too long, sweetheart,” he called after Clara, his voice taunting. “Unless you plan on watching anyway.”
Clara didn’t answer. She stormed into the ruins, knives still in hand, her heart a storm of ang
