"Mira…"
Mirabella's breath stuck in her throat at such an endearing call from the king. Her lashes fluttered, refusing to close, yet not daring to meet his heated gaze head-on.
"Are you afraid of me?" Eros questioned, his other hand settling on the opposite side of her face, cupping and squeezing her cheeks playfully, very much contradicting the tension crackling between them.
Mirabella slowly shook her head. She was not afraid of him, rather, she was afraid of facing this new feeling gnawing at the corners of her heart, slowly extending its roots, gripping her entire being, and squeezing it with a painfully sweet ache.
"Then why are you running away from me?" he asked, inching closer. He rubbed his nose against hers—stroking, poking, urging her for an answer.
