Chapter 459

Third Person’s POV

Gloria was well aware of the vast difference between Eugene and Ulrik, as striking as the contrast between clouds and clay.

That fleeting glance from Eugene had sent her heart racing.

In that brief moment, his eyes had conveyed deep affection.

She was certain Eugene still harbored feelings for her.

She resented Christine for returning the pension, which seemed like a final severance of all ties, leaving her in a dilemma.

No, she must see Eugene again.

Ulrik, noticing her silence and darkening mood, grew anxious. “Still feeling unwell? I’ll send for a doctor right away,” he offered.

Gloria reassured him with a gentle squeeze of his hand, “I’m better now.”

The next day, she dressed meticulously, tucking a fresh red rose behind her ear, and set out.

She was bound for a place that might confirm Eugene’s lingering feelings for her.

At the foot of Yellowstone Mountain lay a stream that cascaded into a small waterfall midway up the slope.

This was Eugene’s sanctuary–a place he frequented when burdened by sorrow or indecision.

He had once brought her here.

Her maid assisted her up the mountain trail. As the surroundings grew desolate, the maid’s unease spilled into words, “Luna Gloria, where exactly are we heading? The heat is overwhelming. Are you sure you can manage?”

her own breath

instructed the maid, “Today, you are to remain silent, no matter who

unversed in etiquette, sensed

remote and uninhabited area filled her with dread–what if danger

warnings/from the previous

midpoint, Gloria could already

quickened– would he

lead,

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of coming all this way, of spending a sleepless night longing for him, only to

she followed the

where once there was none, likely carved by

her through tall grass, the thrill of

bend, the scene

waterfall, stood the figure she had come to see. Her blood boiled with excitement–he

the red rose behind her ear, took another deep breath, and instructed the maid, “Wait here. Do not

fear at the thought of Gloria meeting a man alone, protested, “Luna Gloria, this is absolutely improper.

werewolf general,” Gloria

don’t speak of it, neither will anyone

around. His werewolf hearing had pinpointed the

narrowed almost imperceptibly into vertical

near, tears welled in her eyes and streamed

deliberately released sweet honeysuckle pheromones, like tendrils with hooks, attempting

him.

that had once softened Eugene’s cedar pheromones during

lean and tall frame. The temporary

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