Aurevia didn't know how she made it out of the room.
Her legs trembled beneath her, her face aflame. Her heart thundered with the chaos of stolen breath and lips that still remembered his touch.
She bolted down the hallways of the estate like a deer chased by wildfire, past curious servants, past polished mirrors that mocked her with the reflection of a girl undone.
She finally burst into her room and slammed the door shut, back against the cold wood, chest heaving.
Silence swallowed her whole.
Her fingers brushed her lips. They were still tingling—branded.
She slid down to the floor, knees pulled to her chest, unable to contain the sob-laughter bubbling up from her throat.
She had moaned.
In front of everyone.
And he had squeezed her. Not gently. Not discreetly. Like she was his. Like she already belonged to him.
