Althea slowly opened her eyes and reached across the bed, only to find it empty. The room was quiet, the sky outside still painted with shades of night. She let out a long yawn and rubbed her face, whispering to herself, “What a strange dream.”
Of course it had to be a dream. Gavriel, gentle? Gavriel, holding her close, whispering questions, even chuckling? Impossible.
The Alpha King was a man of few words, colder than the moon’s light, his silence often heavier than his presence. He never lingered in conversations with her, much less indulged in long, searching questions.
Still, the memory of that dream left a trace of warmth in her chest. He had laughed—actually laughed—in it. She let out a small sigh. “How nice must it have been… if it were real?”
She stretched a little, surprised
