The fire in the hearth burned low, casting faint light over the uneven wooden table where the remnants of breakfast lay forgotten. Crumbs clung to the edge of the loaf they had picked apart, and the faint warmth of the room felt at odds with the cold tension that had settled between them.
Taryn scraped at the plates in front of her, her motions precise but empty. The pull of the bond hummed low in her chest—a constant pressure she had grown used to ignoring, but one she could never quite forget. Her thoughts, restless and unsteady, jumped between the things she couldn't seem to process. Kah'el's kiss sat sharp in her mind, raw and impossible to push aside. Then there was Lucien, with his knowing looks and the connection between them that made her feel exposed no matter how carefully she tried to guard herself.
