🦋ALTHEA
The air in the room didn't just feel hot anymore—it felt pressurized, like a storm cell about to burst. My own words, spoken in a moment of bravado I no longer recognized, now acted as a tether Thorne was using to reel me in.
​"Tongue," I echoed, the word barely a puff of air. The "Althea" who had demanded that was a stranger; the Althea sitting here now was a raw nerve, a creature of pulsing heat and desperate, clenching voids.
​Thorne didn't wait for a second invitation.
​He moved with the predatory grace of the wolf, crowding into my space until the tray of food was forgotten, shoved aside as he leaned over me. One hand remained locked around my wrist, pinning it to the mattress, while the other slid up my neck, his thumb hooking under my jaw to tilt my face up.
My body rioted against my mind—logic seemed to falter in the face of my smoldering want.Â
