Lyra’s POV
It started with the flowers. Thousands of them. All white. White roses. White lilies. White orchids flown in from somewhere with too many vowels.
Leo stood next to the florist like a CEO inspecting missile blueprints, hands in his pockets, jaw clenched in that way that made women swoon and grown men flinch.
“Not ivory,” he said flatly, flicking a rose petal off the table like it had insulted him. “Snow white. Like her skin.”
I almost choked on my protein bar. “You know I’m not a vampire, right?”
He didn’t laugh.
The florist did. Nervously. Then stopped when Leo turned that glacier gaze on him.
I stepped in, laid a hand on Leo’s arm. “Leo, the flowers are fine.”
He relaxed under my touch like a switch flipped. Just like that. Like I had that kind of power.
Which was exac
