Mira's POV
Main Street Café was nearly empty when Mira arrived at 2:25 PM. She chose a table by the window, positioning herself so she could see the door.
Professional meeting, she reminded herself. Nothing more.
At exactly 2:30, the café door opened.
Mira's breath caught.
Valeblack Silverstone was not what she'd expected. Tall—easily six-foot-four—with pure silver hair despite appearing to be in his late thirties. Sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw, and eyes that shifted between slate grey and mercury. He moved with liquid grace, radiating power that made Mira's wolf take notice.
When his eyes found hers, something electric passed between them.
"Dr. Whitmore." His voice was smooth as aged whiskey. He extended his hand. "Valeblack Silverstone. Thank you for meeting me."
