I look back.
She’s standing in the middle of her living room, her hair still soft from the spa, her skin glowing in the lamplight. She looks so beautiful, it physically hurts.
“You know this isn’t right.” Her voice is wary.
I cross the room to her and cup her face. “Don’t think too much about it. Sleep. Rest. You had a good day, and so did I.”
She hesitates and then nods, wrapping her arms around herself.
I kiss her cheek gently, wanting more—always needing more—but forcing myself to settle for something chaste.
Once I get back in my car, I sit there for a long moment, staring up at her windows.
My wolf is already counting down the hours until I see her again.
Five in the morning can’t come soon enough.
Chapter Seventeen
Violet
“Violet, we’ve landed.”
The distant, muffled voice pulls me from sleep. I’m groggy, my mind thick with confusion. Where am I?
The surface beneath me is soft but unfamiliar. Not my bed. The air smells different. Clean, expensive.
Right. Darius picked me up. We went to the airport. Have we landed in Miami already?
I force my eyelids open and freeze.
Familiar eyes are staring into mine, only inches away. Darius’s face is so close, I can see the faint stubble along his jaw, the flecks of gold in his irises. His breath mingles with mine.
My face burns hot, and I jerk back.
Before my head connects with the window, his hand shoots out, cupping the back of my skull and absorbing the impact.
“Careful,” he murmurs.
I scramble to sit upright, trying to compose myself. “I’m fine.”
He pulls away slowly, and I can still feel the warmth of his palm against my hair as we stand up and gather our things.
The warm Florida air hits us when we step off the plane. I blinkagainst the humidity, so different from home. Darius guides me through the terminal with a hand at the small of my back, and even through my shirt, I feel the heat of his touch.
We collect our luggage at baggage claim. I have my carry-on and a small suitcase. Darius retrieves his expensive-looking black bag and wheels it alongside mine. Yawning, I ask, “Should we get a taxi?”
“No. There should be a car waiting for us.” Darius scans the arrivals area, and I nudge him.
“Over there.”
A man in a chauffeur’s uniform is holding a sign with the name Darius Moonvale printed on it. He greets both of us when we approach him and leads us to a shiny, black sedan waiting outside. The driver takes our bags, and within minutes, we’re gliding through the streets of Miami. Palm trees line the roads, the city bright with Florida sunshine.
I yawn again, covering my mouth with my hand.
“Have you been to Miami before?” Darius asks.
“No. It’s my first time.” I glance at him. “Miami is a majority human city. Why hold the gala here?”
