The bathroom door clicked shut, and Chloe leaned her back against it, breathing hard like she’d just run a mile. Steam curled from the hot water filling the tub, misting the mirror.

She peeled her clothes off piece by piece, almost angrily, and dropped them to the tiles. She needed this, needed to drown herself in water, wash off everything pressing against her chest: Valerius’s absence, Lucius’s silence, the wreath and the letter, the ever-present burn of her own desire.

Sliding into ...