"That's enough," she said, her voice unsteady. "You've taken enough warmth from me."
He stared at her for a long moment, breathing hard, his jaw tight with barely restrained desire.
But he stepped back.
Slowly. Reluctantly.
"For now," he murmured.
Eris slid off the table, her legs unsteady, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might crack her ribs.
Without another word, she turned and left the room, her cloak whispering behind her.
She didn't look back.
Couldn't.
Because if she did, she wasn't sure she'd be able to leave.
Soren stood there for a long time after she left, staring at the door, his hands still warm from where they'd held her.
His desire burned hotter than any fire she could conjure.
And he knew—knew—that this wouldn't be the end.
It was only the beginning.
He had to be patient with Eris, but gods, patience was worse than pain itself.
In her room, Eris pressed her back against the door and exhaled shakily.
