Gianna couldn't believe herself; couldn't believe that Areso had actually been right on the money to warn her not to show her claws.
Because she wanted to. She wanted to claw out the skin from Esme's bland face. She wanted to hear the latter scream in pain…
Come on. You can do this.
Gianna inhaled deeply, gracefully, quelling the immediate urge that rose again to frown in distaste at Esme, who was watching her and Noah with barely veiled disdain lingering in her eyes, arms crossed tightly against her chest like a shield.
Gianna took in another breath, this one deliberate, meant to suppress the far more violent urge to cross the space between them and land five sharp slaps on each of Esme's cheeks, drag her hair, and bash that infuriating head against the wall beside her.
She exhaled slowly through almost-closed lips. So subtle was she in masking her urges, her inclinations, the riot of her temper, that an outsider would never know she was locked in a silent battle of wills.
