Book 8: Feel the Heat

Kenna

Evander shuts the door. The lock clicks, and for a moment, the only sound I can hear is my heartbeat racing in my own ears. 

He looks… conflicted. Unsure–and unsteady. 

“You–you smell like vanilla candles,” I whisper, unsure if I say the words out loud or only in my head. 

But he looks at me, holding my gaze. “I do?” he asks quietly, his voice taking on a tone I’m not accustomed to. It’s softer than before, less on edge. 

I nod, finding it impossible to swallow past the lump forming in my throat. 

“Why?” I ask, because it’s the only word frantically bouncing around my skull. 

“Why do I smell like the vanilla candles you like so much?” He takes a step toward me, then another, but there’s still an incredible amount of distance between us. 

“Yeah, why?”

Evander’s jaw clenches, and his eyes dart to his boots. Guilt clouds the fine features of his face. 

But I don’t