Nora's POV
Nobody gets to claim they took down a hellhound and lived to tell about it. The thought races through my mind as James settles me onto his bed, his strong hands already working at the straps of my heels.
"Especially not in designer shoes and a push-up bra," he murmurs, his fingers gentle against my aching calves.
When he looks up at me, concern shadows his dark eyes. "Tell me honestly, Nora. Are you really okay after what happened back there?"
The intensity of tonight still pulses through my veins like electricity. "We're breathing. You're here, my friends made it out, and somehow even Antonia survived." I pause, managing a weak smile. "Well, technically you and Antonia don't breathe, but you get what I mean."
