Valtira.
The audacity of him to hold me like that.
As though he still had the right.
As though years had not passed. As though betrayal had not carved scars into my soul. As though he could simply reach for me, grip my wrist, command my temper—and expect obedience.
The nerve of him.
My anger rose beyond anything I had ever known. It was not just rage. It was humiliation, memory, heartbreak, resentment—everything colliding at once until I could barely breathe around it.
His closeness was suffocating.
His scent—earth, smoke, wild frost—wrapped around me like it remembered me.
And worst of all, my traitorous body reacted.
After years without his touch, the heat of his hand around mine sent an unwanted tremor down my spine. A pulse deep in my core I did not ask for. Did not welcome. D
