By the time they got back to the mansion, Aria had shifted away from Zyren, doing her best to tame her hair. She dragged her fingers through the unruly strands again and again, trying to smooth them down, flatten them, force them into something presentable. The last thing she wanted was for everyone to realize that she had been sleeping with Zyren—least of all Liora.
Her lips still felt a bit swollen to the touch as she reached up and placed her fingers against them.
This is a disaster, she thought grimly. An absolute disaster.
But the more she tried to fix it, the more annoyed she became. Her movements grew sharper, more frustrated, until she finally shot Zyren a glare. Her hand moved to her neck, fingertips brushing over tender spots that throbbed faintly beneath her touch. She winced slightly. They were bound to be red, bound to be visible, and there was no way she could hide them completely.
He really had no restraint at all, she thought bitterly. None.
