The manor was hushed after the fireworks, its long corridors glowing with the faint, intimate light of enchanted lanterns. Guests had finally retired to their chambers, laughter fading into distant echoes, leaving the ancient house alive only with the soft whispers of old magic and secrets. Elara wandered alone, her silver gown trailing across the polished stone floor, heart hammering so hard she could feel it pulsing between her legs. The storm inside her had grown into a raging inferno—no longer content with stolen glances and whispered confessions. It demanded release.
She turned a corner—and Kaelen was there.
He stood half in shadow, cloak still dusted with frost from the garden, broad shoulders filling the narrow space. The moment their eyes met, the air thickened, charged with raw,
