Anana’s fingers trailed tenderly along the velvet petals of the iris, her touch was both soft and tender. And her smile was faint.
“We will talk when you return.” She whispered.
Before Lucien could press further, the crunch of hurried footsteps broke the moment. A guard approached, bowing deeply. “Alpha, the carriage is ready.”
Lucien gave a small nod, but his attention never left Anana. His eyes burned with possessive softness. Then, lowering his head to her, he murmured, “Whatever it is, you wish to tell me, we will discuss it when I return. Nothing will remain unsaid between us.”
He kissed her forehead with lingering warmth, then stepped away, his cloak sweeping behind him. The air seemed to shift with his departure.
Anana remained where she stood, the flower cradled delicately in
