Maeve's arms wrapped tightly around me as her wings beat the air with steady, powerful strokes. The wind whipped against my face, drowning out everything but the sound of air rushing past us.
I should have been thinking about the training, about surviving whatever fresh hell Leora had cooked up, but instead, my mind was stuck on what had just happened.
Maeve. Maeve and her teasing voice, her smirking face, her touch—why did she always manage to mess with my head?
The way she'd pinned me, the warmth of her body pressed against mine, her eyes glinting like she knew every embarrassing thought running through my mind—it was too much. My heart hadn't stopped pounding since.
I clutched at her shoulders tighter, trying to push the memory away, but it was no use.
