The moment those long elegant fingers closed around her wrist, her entire attention snapped elsewhere.
Cool skin.
Not cold enough to feel unnatural.
But distinctly cooler than her own heated body beneath the afternoon sun.
The grip was firm without hurting.
Controlled. Yet she knew he could have snapped her wrist effortlessly.
Slowly, her gaze followed the arm upward.
Silver jewelry wrapped around powerful forearms.
Thin chains glimmering beneath the afternoon light.
And then—
him.
For one suspended heartbeat, Mirabelle genuinely forgot how to breathe.
The male standing before her possessed something deeply unnatural about his beauty.
Not charming.
Not even handsome in the ordinary sense.
He looked…
divine.
Or perhaps cursed by something ancient enough that the difference no longer mattered.
