The carriage had come to a halt, but even then, Aria didn't move.
She sat frozen in place, her body stiff beneath her cloak, hands clenched tight in her lap. Her legs trembled—subtle but uncontrollable—and the burning heat in her lower belly throbbed with a maddening persistence.
It was worse now than it had ever been before, a suffocating wave of tension and need that made it difficult to even rise. Her breath hitched as she fixed her gaze on the floor, refusing to lift her eyes, silently willing him to go first.
Leave. Just leave…
But Zyren didn't move.
He didn't step out. He didn't even glance at the door. Instead, he reclined against the velvet-lined seat, turning toward her with infuriating ease. His expression was unreadable, though a hint of amusement ghosted across his lips.
"After you…" he drawled, voice smooth as silk. Then, casually, "Or would you like me to carry you?"
