Luna stood there for a breathless moment, forehead flat against the door, listening, waiting for his presence to pass.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly, as though she had just run a marathon when all she had done was stand in her own heartache. She pressed her forehead to the door. She couldn't face him.
Let him walk past, she prayed silently.
Let him go to his room, take off his clothes, wash her off his body, and sleep like nothing had happened.
She held her breath.
And waited.
But she knew it was useless. Locking the door was little more than performance art when you were hiding from a vampire prince who could literally hear your heartbeat from ten rooms away. And right now, that poor heart was slamming against her ribcage. She could feel him on the other side of the door.
There was no knock. There didn't need to be. He wouldn't invade her space unless invited, and she wasn't ready to open that door.
