Celine stared at the door long after Damian had departed, her hand still gently pressed against her lips as if trying to hold onto a secret that refused to fade away. The warmth of his kiss still pulsed on her skin, her heart was beating too fast and she couldn't help but feel annoyed at the mess of emotions churning inside her.
This was never meant to happen, she groaned, running her hands over her face, trying to push away the ridiculous flutter in her chest. 'What was that? Was it just a moment of weakness? A temporary lapse in judgment? Or something far more dangerous?'
She couldn't afford to dwell on it. Not when her life was still hanging by a thread. The nobles, with their vicious hunger for power, had marked her for death, and every shadow seemed to whisper threats of an assassin's return.
