YELENA

His presence was overwhelming, the scent of woodsmoke and rain filling my nose. He looked down at my hands. "Then why is your hand gripping the door handle like you’re afraid I’m going to rip it off?"

I looked down.

My knuckles were white, my fingers clamped tightly over the cold metal handle. I yanked my hand away immediately, tucking it behind my back.

"No... I was just... using it to balance myself. I’m tired, Tristan."

He stepped closer, so close that I could feel the ...