Snow fell thick and silent that evening, blanketing the manor in a hush that felt almost sacred—yet dangerously intimate. Lanterns glowed softly through the gardens, their golden light scattering across pristine white drifts like scattered promises. The hedges stood tall beneath heavy frosted crowns, and the air was sharp with pine, woodsmoke, and the faint, masculine scent that always seemed to cling to Kaelen. Guests still lingered in the warm ballroom, their laughter muffled by thick stone walls, but Elara slipped outside alone, desperate for cold air to cool the fever burning between her thighs.
She needed solitude. Space. Anything to quiet the filthy storm that had only grown worse since his confession.
The garden was breathtaking in its frozen beauty. Frosted arches glittered ov
