𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐄
"Where were you?" I repeated, louder this time. My hands were shaking. "It's—" I glanced at the clock. "It's almost dawn. You've been gone all night."
"That's none of your concern."
The dismissal sliced through me. "None of my—" I laughed, the sound bitter. "You had your mouth on my throat in front of half the gala last night. You—we—" I couldn't finish and voice what I thought had happened between us.
"You were drunk," he said, still not looking at me. "You don't remember half of what you said."
"I remember enough." I took a step toward him. "I remember you holding me. I remember—" I remember asking you not to leave. "Where did you go, Mikhail?"
He finally turned, and the look in his eyes made me step back. He was dispassionate and nothing like the man who'd danced with me, who'd bitten me, who'd whispered moya against my skin.
"You have no right to ask me that."
