Night had a strange way of settling around Darien's house, like the air held its breath whenever he decided to withdraw into his study. And tonight was no different. The tall windows reflected nothing but darkness, ink pooling behind glass, while a single brass lamp glowed on the corner of his desk, yellow and soft, haloing the open book beneath his hands.
He hadn't really read the last three pages.
Actually, he had no idea what the book was even about anymore. Something with numbers? Or politics? He'd skimmed a sentence seven times and retained exactly none of it. It didn't matter. His mind was elsewhere… so far elsewhere it was ridiculous.
Or… on someone.
Amara.
The memory hit him again.
Her mouth, the taste of her breath, the surprisingly sweet flavor lingering on his tongue even now. It made no sense. It was a kiss, sure, but it had been… something else, too. Something feral and warm and almost stupidly intoxicating.
He hated how unsteady that realization made him.
