Then his grip vanished.
She crashed to the grass with bone-jarring impact, the cold reality of her near-mistake chilling her faster than Kaelric's frost ever could.
The ground was hard and unforgiving beneath her, a stark reminder of how close she'd come to losing everything to a moment of weakness.
Vesper tsked disapprovingly, straightening his cuffs with the casual air of someone who hadn't just turned her world upside down.
The sound was soft, almost gentle, but it carried the weight of judgment. "Pity," he mused, eyeing her sprawled form with the detached interest of someone examining a particularly interesting insect. "That move usually ends with my partner whimpering, not eating dirt."
Heat flooded her cheeks—whether from embarrassment or lingering arousal, she couldn't tell. The grass was damp beneath her palms as she tried to push herself up, the moisture seeping through the stolen fabric.
