CLARABEL

The wood of the door was cold against my face, as I stood pinned between the exit and the wall of heat that was Malakai. I could feel him behind me, his presence vibrating with a frequency I felt in my very marrow. His palm was slammed against the doorframe just above my head, his arm a heavy timber caging me in. The air in the small gap between my back and his chest was thick, stagnant with the scent of copper, salt, and that dark, musky spice that belonged only to him.

I was fully conscious of him. Every nerve ending I possessed was screaming, hyper-aware of the...