neck, his other hand gripping the fabric at her hip, fire rippling off him in waves. It seared through her, and Elara welcomed it. He heaved, his full lips so close that if she so much as shifted, they’d graze hers. She swallowed, as she fixed her hate-filled gaze upon Enzo’s, raising her chin. His grip tightened in her hair. She had never seen a hatred like it, what burned within his eyes for her. And she understood. Because she hated herself too for what she was about to say. But she didn’t let it stop her.
