Evangeline lowered her gaze, which fell upon the tips of Lachlan's flushed ears. The color was like a sunset, a brilliant, burning crimson.
The corners of her narrow eyes lifted slightly, a hint of a smile playing in their depths.
The pain of breaking their pact in the Frost-plain Tribe, the brush with death in the mudslide—it had all torn a wound in Lachlan's heart. It left him with an obsession that gnawed at his very bones, compelling him to abandon his tribe and travel a thousand miles to find her.
She could now be certain that the bitter seeds sown by the body's original owner, the debts left unpaid, were finally settled for good.
'Such a pure, aloof Beastman, hopelessly caught in the web I so carefully wove.' He would not be escaping.
Just then, Lachlan suddenly turned back around.
