Thalina's breath hitched at the sensation of Eyrx's cold hands covering hers, his fingers guiding her movements with an ease that made her feel utterly helpless.
His grip was firm, but not forceful, his long fingers adjusting her own as if she were some delicate thing incapable of precision.
"Relax," his voice whispered against the shell of her ear, low and deep, sending an unexpected shiver down her spine.
Relax? How was she supposed to relax when he was so close? When his scent—a strange mix of rain-drenched stone and something sharp, almost like spice—curled around her senses?
His tail, thick and powerful, had coiled around her waist, holding her effortlessly against his chest, keeping her pressed against the cold yet oddly comforting warmth of his body.
Thalina's lips parted, a protest forming, but her thoughts scattered the moment his breath tickled her neck.
