Alicia took a step back, gaze flitting to anything but him. The ceiling glittered with starlight through the dome. The marble floor gleamed. Even the distant glow from the bookcases seemed like a safer place to look. Anywhere but at the man standing before her, watching her like he already owned the space between her ribs.
"I was just… drunk," she muttered, voice tight. "Probably mistook it all for a dream."
The sound he made wasn't laughter. It was deeper than that. A rough, sharp sound that came from his chest—half amusement, half threat. It rumbled like a warning beneath his breath.
"Drunk?" he repeated, stepping forward slowly. His boots were silent on the marble, but his presence hit like thunder. The gap between them disappeared in a second, swallowed by the sheer force of him.
His shadow fell over her. Her body reacted before she could control it—chest tightening, throat clenching, every nerve screaming that he was too close and not close enough.
