The scent of smoke clung to the walls of Killian’s lodge. Not from firewood. From me.

Even hours later, the taste of heat lingered on my tongue, the ghost of his mouth, his teeth, his control. Every nerve still hummed like I hadn’t survived a storm but become it.

Killian hadn’t said much afterward. He’d only watched me in that maddening way, silver eyes sharp as a blade, unreadable. Then he’d left me in the silence of his room, the shadows heavy with the echo of what we’d ...