Chapter Thirty-OneWhen Zantry arrived late in the afternoon, I was preparing chicken dumplings from a recipe I'd found on the Internet. He stepped inside, his hair must and wet from the cold drizzle, dressed all in black, those violet-blue eyes contrasting nicely. He smelled like hot spices, with an undertone of something citrusy. He carried an arrangement of colorful roses, some still budding, others in full bloom.
My God, he was so perfect. So beautiful.
His smile flashed, a hint of a dimple appearing on his left cheek.
I narrowed my eyes at the smug smile. Could he read minds?
He flicked a finger over my nose and stepped aside for me to close the door. “Your thoughts are written in your eyes, beautiful one.” He bowed once, offering the gorgeous bouquet.
“Aren't you the smooth one?”
