Chapter 18 · Warmth of a Lie

"Get your hands off me, Nora. Now," I snapped, though my voice sounded more like a plea than a command.

Her fingers were still threaded through my hair, pulling my head back just enough to force me to look at her. We were still tangled together on the oversized velvet sofa in her private lounge, the air thick with the scent of expensive jasmine and something sharper—something like ozone and fear. The silence between us wasn't peaceful; it was a battlefield where neither of us wanted to surrender the first inch of ground.

"Why?" Nora whispered. Her breath hitched, grazing my lips. "You were the one shaking, Sera. You were the one who didn't pull away."

I jerked my head, breaking the contact, and scrambled back until my spine hit the armrest. I glared at her, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. "I was cold. The void does that. Don't mistake survival instincts for something else."

Nora didn't move. She stayed where she was, draped across the cushions in a way that made her look like a predatory cat.