Member-only story
The Huntress at the Edge of Desire
“You think you know what I want,” she said, looking down at him with eyes that glinted with the promise of something raw and unspoken
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The rain tapped against the windows, soft at first, then insistent. Seraphina felt the world outside blur into a wash of gray and wet streets, but inside, the room felt like it was holding its breath.
The light was dim, just enough to trace the outlines of things — the curve of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders, the faint rise and fall of his chest.
He sat across from her, on the edge of the couch, too far away but still too close. She didn’t know if he was waiting for something or if he was simply allowing the space between them to stretch, testing how far they could both go before something broke.
She let her fingers trace the rim of her glass, the chill of the wine against her skin sending a ripple of sensation through her. The scent of him, deep and smoky, curled around the room, mixing with the warmth of the fire crackling in the hearth.
She could feel his eyes on her, steady, unflinching.
