Zara Fen POV
The heavy oak door of the preparation alcove slams shut, the sound echoing like a gunshot against the narrow stone walls. The noise cuts off the chaotic roar of the exhibition floor.
Inside was rowdy and filled with noises from the shouting council members, the flashing press cameras, the frantic whispers of the Northern elite—instantly reducing it to a dull, muffled throb.
Before I can even turn around, a heavy weight traps me.
Lir shoves his back against the wood of the door, his chest heaving under his charcoal suit jacket. He is breathing as if he just ran through a blizzard, his broad shoulders blocking the only exit from the tiny, dimly lit room. The air inside the alcove is instantly swallowed by his presence, turning thick and suffocatingly hot.
He smells of raw w
