The afternoon sun bled through the arched windows of the Academy, but for Isabella Frostbite, the light brought no warmth. She sat at her desk, her hands trembling as she stared at the stack of student files. Her lips still felt scorched, a phantom heat lingering where Adonis had pressed his mouth to hers.
She felt a deep, hollow pit of guilt in her stomach. What had she done? She was a senior instructor, a pillar of the institution, and she had allowed herself to be compromised by a boy, a student who was barely out of his teenage years.
Every time she closed her eyes, she didn't see the curriculum or the battle rosters. She saw the predatory violet light in his eyes.
She felt the iron strength of his grip on her waist. It was improper, it was dangerous, and by all the laws of the realm, it was a ruinous path.
