Vexaria didn't know who moved first. One moment, they were locked in a silent battle, their breath mingling in the charged space between them. The next, his lips crashed against hers.
The kiss wasn't soft. It wasn't hesitant. It was a clash of fire and fury, of stubborn wills refusing to break yet unable to resist.
Xypheron's hands gripped her waist, pulling her against him as if daring her to deny what was happening. But she didn't push him away. She matched him, met his hunger with her own, fingers tangling in his hair as if she could pull him closer—if that were even possible.
She was losing herself, drowning in the way he consumed her. And gods, it terrified her.
Vexaria wrenched herself back, her breath ragged. "This doesn't change anything," she said, voice sharp despite the way her body trembled.
Xypheron smirked, though his breathing was just as uneven