Rosalia — POV
My heart was beating fast—
half anxious, half wrapped in anticipation for what was about to happen.
It wasn't a normal heartbeat; it felt like a frantic tapping inside my chest, each thump stumbling over the next, as if my heart itself couldn't decide whether to run away or throw itself straight into Cassel's arms.
A strange warmth spread across my skin, prickling at the back of my neck, making my breath catch as the world around us tightened into one point—his face, his breath, his nearness.
I won't lie: I had imagined a thousand romantic scenes where I finally win Cassel's heart.
A sweet kiss.
A gentle, tender kiss.
Or a burning one—hot, overwhelming.
Or a possessive kiss that devours you.
A fierce kiss that steals your breath…
I had imagined countless moments and shapes of desire, all impossible and perfect, all brighter than the cruel world we lived in.
