Elara's Perspective
Dessert plates cleared amid lingering chuckles, the air thick with the promise of moonlit wildness. Berries' tart sweetness clung to my tongue, but it was Kael's gaze—dark, smoldering—that truly lingered, tracing my lips like a phantom caress. His foot had retreated, yet the ghost of its path up my calf burned, a secret ember fanned by every stolen glance. The pack stirred, chairs scraping as Dorian rose, his broad frame commanding silence. Mum stood beside him, her silver-blonde hair catching the chandelier's glow, Luna's poise radiating quiet strength.
"Time to stretch our legs, pack," Dorian rumbled, voice gravel-warm. "Borders won't mark themselves."
Wolves murmured assent, rising like a tide—Riven cracking knuckles, Zane stretching with a yawn. My heart quickene
