Serena.
I ignore Tristan’s childish wave and move closer to Thorne, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Thorne's hand settles lightly on the small of my back, steadying me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Tristan’s jaw ticks. So quick did it disappear that I doubt if it truly happened.
Athea bows slightly. “My Lords,” she says smoothly to Thorne and Vasquez, then spares me a smirk before turning on her heel.
I offer a polite nod to the men, then quickly follow after her. My boots echo in the corridor as I catch up.
“What the hell was that?” I hiss, grabbing her arm.
She turns, lips still curved. “What?”
“You kissed Tristan again? Seriously?”
She rolls her eyes. “Relax. I’m just having fun. Besides he isn't complaining is he?”
I freeze. “Excuse me?”
She leans in, her voice low and irritatingly playful. “Come on, Serena. You and Thorne, me and Tristan?
I want to smack her. My hand itches to. But I breathe instead. “You’re wrong.”
She laughs, “Sure, if that helps
