Dawn had barely kissed the horizon when they left the quarry behind. Mist clung to the forest like a silken veil, hiding the world from itself, yet nothing could hide the thrill thrumming between them. Every step Elara took alongside Draven carried tension—not only from the awakening currents around them but from the fire sparking quietly between their bodies.
The deeper current within Elara pulsed in response to Lena's newfound presence, intertwining subtly with her own. It was chaotic but controlled, and she felt the responsibility like a weight pressing warmly against her ribs. Draven noticed it too; the way his fingers brushed hers, intentionally casual yet lingering, sent a shiver through her that had nothing to do with cold.
"You're smiling," he murmured, voice low, and rough with restrained desire.
"I'm not smiling," she said, though the curve of her lips betrayed her.
"Yes, you are," he countered, the heat in his words pressing against her like the first edge of a storm.
