Cassel — POV
"You... You, Cassel—what are you doing?"
Her voice trembled, a soft quiver that barely reached my ears.
But her clear black eyes—those deep, unyielding eyes—held no fear.
No rejection.
No hint of retreat.
That alone should have been enough to stop me.
But it didn't.
This girl before me—only moments ago, she'd been fragile and tear-streaked in my arms, sobbing like a lost child.
Her words had tumbled out in pieces, broken by hiccups and fear. She'd clung to me as if the world itself were slipping away.
And now... now, as I looked down at her trembling beneath me, the memory of that warmth—her soft frame, her scent, her heartbeat—struck me like thunder.
It was too vivid.
Too real.
It felt like an addiction.
I've become addicted to her in no time.
A fever that gripped your veins, crawled under your skin, and left you craving more—helpless against its pull.
(Don't die...)
She had said that, voice breaking as her fingers reached for me.
