Rion Vale stands there as if he owns the room, as if the air itself bends around him. The black-orchid scent rolls over me in a slow, velvety wave, wrapping around my lungs like a warm trap. It always does this to me—calm and nerves tangled together until I can't distinguish one from the other.
He's still holding my childhood album, fingers resting on its worn edge. My entire body tightens. The distance between us is too small, too intimate, too dangerous. My face must be burning with anger, but the moment that scent clings to me, my control slips… just a little. Just enough.
I raise my hand slowly, snatching the album from his grip. My voice is low, barely holding itself steady.
"You're crossing the line. You shouldn't do this."
Not even a blink. Not even a twitch. Rion Vale never reacts like a normal person. Instead, he leans in—closer, too close—his breath brushing my ear.
"Little kitten, we already crossed the line. Not once. Twice. Didn't you remember?"
