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?”

there,” Gloria replied, her own breath

“Today, you are to remain silent, no matter

unversed in etiquette,

remote and uninhabited area filled

recalled Christine’s warnings/from the

Gloria could already hear the

quickened– would he be

legs felt like lead,

1/3

|||

O

coming all this way, of spending a sleepless

breaths, she

her surprise, a trail now existed where once there was none, likely carved by

visits when Eugene had guided her through tall grass, the thrill of

the scene opened

by the waterfall, stood the figure she had come

deep breath, and instructed the maid, “Wait here. Do

the thought of Gloria meeting a man alone, protested, “Luna Gloria, this is

no longer a werewolf general,” Gloria

of it, neither will anyone else. Stay

footsteps, turned around. His werewolf hearing had pinpointed the deliberate

imperceptibly into vertical slits–was it

tears welled in her eyes and streamed down

like tendrils with hooks,

him.

had once softened Eugene’s cedar pheromones during

with his clothing clinging to his lean and tall frame. The temporary mark on his neck, not yet faded, glowed a faint red

The Novel will be updated daily. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

Comments ()

0/255