The voices lingered for a while, weaving in and out like echoes that refused to die. They grew louder, as if prowling the corridors, inspecting every corner of the place.
Jamaila's breath caught in her throat, each passing second stretching unbearably. Then, slowly they began to fade. One by one, they dissolved into the distance until silence descended once more.
"I believe they're gone now," Auren whispered at last. His voice was barely more than a breath, low and hushed. His warm breath brushed across her face and Jamaila's heart lurched violently against her ribs.
She opened her mouth to respond, but words failed her.
Before she could gather her thoughts, his hand found hers again. His grip was firm but not cruel this time. Without a word, he tugged her gently out of the dressing room's cramped space. His sharp eyes flicked immediately toward the door.
