*Aryanna

I couldn’t quite decipher Darren’s motive for insisting on escorting me. Whether it was a silent declaration or a quiet claim staked in public—perhaps both—I chose not to protest. His presence brought no threat, and I found myself curious enough to permit his company. His hand rested on the small of my back, a gesture that felt more declarative than protective. Then, in one smooth motion, his touch slipped down, his fingers weaving between mine, binding us for any ...