Their whispers continue but I can’t hear them any longer over the blood thumping in my temples. The ghost of whiskey now tastes bitter on my tongue, and my fingers twitch. So much so, that I slip my hand in the pocket of my slacks and curl it into a fist. So, Aurora’s a whore. A far cry from the virgin she’s pretending to be for my uncle. I run my tongue over my teeth and take a slow, deep breath. Rafe’s silent now, and I can feel his gaze heating my cheek.
