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?”

almost there,” Gloria replied, her own

to catch her breath and coolly instructed the maid, “Today, you are to remain silent, no

maid, though unversed in etiquette, sensed the inappropriateness of their

area filled her

warnings/from the previous

the mountain’s midpoint, Gloria could already hear the waterfall’s

quickened– would

lead,

1/3

|||

O

a sleepless night longing

breaths, she followed the

surprise, a trail now existed where once there was none, likely carved by others who had

visits when Eugene had guided her through tall grass, the

bend, the

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

touched the red rose behind her ear, took another deep breath, and instructed the

maid, pale with fear at the thought of Gloria meeting a man alone, protested,

longer a werewolf general,”

you don’t speak of it, neither will anyone else. Stay

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

imperceptibly into vertical slits–was it truly

drew near, tears welled in her eyes and streamed down

released sweet honeysuckle pheromones, like tendrils with hooks,

him.

was the scent that had once

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

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

Comments ()

0/255