Chapter 63: The Taken flowers.
As their faces neared, Alaric’s dark eyes searched hers for a moment, and then, with the faintest hint of a smirk, he leaned in, his breath warm against her skin.
Salviana’s eyelids fluttered closed, anticipation coiling within her, every nerve alive as his face neared hers. Just as his lips brushed hers, a featherlight touch that hinted at something profound—
She woke, her chest rising sharply as she took in a deep, disoriented breath, her eyes adjusting to the ceiling above.
The silence of her chamber grounded her, though her heart continued to race with the memory of the dream’s intensity.
For a long moment, she lay still, her hand drifting to her lips, a question echoing in her mind.
’What would it feel like to truly kiss Alaric?’
Would his lips be as soft and warm as she imagined, or perhaps cool and addictively intoxicating?
Would it be like the sweetness of cake, rich and inviting, but even more thrilling?
"Ughh," she groaned, pressing her face into her pillow, a mix of frustration and longing clouding her thoughts.
That kiss, the promise of it, lingered in her like an unanswered melody.
As she lied on the bed gathering her thoughts and feelings, Salviana’s memory jolted, the image of the flowers from the day before suddenly vivid in her mind.