Calista didn't want to make any moves yet but there was a hunger in her now. A need to remind herself that she could choose. That she could take. Besides, she didn't want something like this to repeat itself again. What if Veyrin came back for more of her blood? This chastity was like a noose hanging around her throat. The faster she got rid of it, the easier she could live.
Her mind wandered to Lysander. Not the uniform, not the clean loyalty, and definitely not the way he kept mute despite her repeated abuse, but the way his arms flexed when he carried things without effort, the steady set of his jaw, the heat of him when he stood too close.
She didn't want his promises. She didn't want his care. She wanted his body, the way a starving person wants bread. Not because they plan to keep it, but because it would fill the empty space for a little.
And maybe, when it was over, she would feel less like the broken fool Veyrin had left behind.
