I’d half expected her to rip my arm off for touching her hand, but instead she kissed me, and every bit of spark in her—every blaze of temper and passion she smothered just to survive in her world—it all burned bright in that kiss. She’d found an outlet for everything she felt but couldn’t show, and I took it all. I swallowed her pain and her anger. I devoured her isolation and frustration. And I reveled in the hunger she was showing me, and in my own need, awakened by hers. When she finally dropped onto her heels again, her hand trailing down my neck and lingering on my chest, I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t see anything but Kori, and the confusion and desire warring in her eyes. Flickering across her expression, one side of her face shadowed, the other illuminated by light shining through the racks from the lit section of the cellar. Then the men’s voices grew louder, accompanying their footsteps toward the cellar entrance.
