Irene's POV
I was still sitting there like an absolute idiot, my hand pressed against my neck where Yin's fangs had grazed my skin.
The sensation hadn't faded at all. If anything it had gotten worse, spreading through my body like wildfire until every nerve ending was screaming for more. More touch, more heat, more of whatever the hell that had been.
"Get a grip, Irene," I muttered, pressing my palms against my flushed cheeks. "You're supposed to hate him. You're supposed to be plotting his downfall, not fantasizing about him bending you over and—"
I cut myself off with a groan. This was ridiculous and extremely annoying because I was reacting in a way I didn't understand.
But god, the way he'd looked at me in that moment, like he wanted to devour me whole. The way his breath had felt hot against my skin, the barely there scrape of his teeth that had made my entire body arch toward him.
