The Grand Ballroom of the Blackwood Estate was a symphony of opulence and shadow. Crystalline chandeliers dripped from the vaulted ceiling, scattering light like shattered diamonds across the polished obsidian floor. The air itself was thick, saturated with the scent of night-blooming jasmine, expensive perfume, and the potent, musky aroma of powerful wolves. I stood at the top of the grand staircase, my hand resting on Riven's arm, feeling the tense, coiled strength beneath his formal black jacket.
All eyes were on us. The newly mated pair. The Ice Prince and his reclaimed Omega.
