Marigold’s presence was magnetic, a delicate porcelain beauty whose every movement seemed to captivate the room. The luxurious red gown she wore clung to her like a second skin, accentuating every curve, and her skin gleamed under the chandelier lights—flawless and untouchable. Her eyes were sharp, calculating, as she turned to survey the men in the room, each one unable to tear their gaze away from her.
But not Alpha Lorcan. The moment his eyes locked with mine, they softened, a flicker of something unspoken passing between us. He didn’t just look at me—he saw me. Without a second’s hesitation, he crossed the room, his strong, capable hand sliding around my waist, pulling me into his embrace with a possessiveness that felt like a claim. His touch used to be a comfort, a promise. But now,
