Aiden's gaze, sharp and predatory, shifted from the spent form of Sericaot Varra.
He moved like a hunter, silent and deliberate, his blue eyes fixed on his next quarry.
He paused above her.
His shadow enveloped her, a warm, heavy blanket.
He settled, hovering, his powerful frame suspended just inches from her, the scent of her, subtle and sweet like sea salt and blooming jasmine, filling his senses.
His hands, large and capable, found her waist, cupping the soft flesh through the delicate fabric of her gown.
The silk, cool against his fingers, clung to her generous curves.
Varra's eyelids fluttered, then lifted, aquamarine eyes, deep and sparkling like sun-dappled tides, met his.
A flush, hot and immediate, bloomed across her high cheekbones, painting them a vivid rose.
Her gaze held a shy longing, a vulnerability he found utterly captivating.
His own eyes, a playful glint dancing in their depths, burned with raw desire.
