"What else should I say?" He leaned back, the flickering light catching in his silver-white hair. "That I'm relieved?"
She smirked. "Are you?"
Instead of answering, Tharion did something that caught her completely off guard.
He reached for her.
It was smooth, effortless—the way his fingers brushed against her wrist, then slid up to her forearm, his touch deliberate, possessive. Not in a way that demanded, but in a way that claimed.
Her breath hitched.
Then, as if she wasn't already having trouble breathing, he leaned in.
Not a full kiss—no, Tharion wasn't the type to rush. Instead, he let his lips graze the corner of her mouth, slow and teasing, a ghost of a touch that sent a shiver straight down her spine.
She had been expecting something colder, more composed, but this? This was—
"Tharion," she started, trying to keep her voice steady.
"Hmm?" He murmured against her skin.
Oh, he was enjoying this.
