The world narrowed to the space of a single, ragged breath.
Arin could feel the heat radiating from him, see the storm of a thousand conflicting emotions in the molten gold of his eyes. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and the air between them grew thick, heavy, and electric. He was going to kiss her. The thought was a bolt of lightning, half terror, half a strange, hollow yearning.
Her own lips parted slightly, a silent, involuntary invitation. For one heartbeat, she was lost. Lost in the grief, in the violence, in the profound, crushing loneliness of this gilded cage. For one heartbeat, she wanted the oblivion of a kiss that was not meant for her, a moment of feeling something, anything, other than the gaping wound inside her. She wanted to fall into the fire in his eyes and let it burn her to ash.
But she was a survivor. And survivors did not trade one cage for another.
