Evaline:
The mont the cloth dropped to the floor, his lashes fluttered open.
And then he saw .
His breath left him so abruptly that I almost stepped back.
His eyes widened.
Darkened.
Road over with a stunned, aching slowness.
"Evaline..." His voice broke... literally broke... into a rough, disbelieving whisper.
Heat flooded my cheeks, but I held my ground and lifted my chin. "Surprise."
His eyes traveled down the curve of my shoulders to the necklace, across the shimring black gown, lingering at the slit, and then returning to my face with such intensity my knees almost gave out.
I had wanted to leave him breathless.
And I had succeeded.
He took one step forward.
Then another.
His gaze never wavered... like he couldn’t look away even if he tried.
"You..." He swallowed hard. "You are breathtaking."
I smiled, my heart fluttering. "You have seen in this dress before."
He shook his head slowly. "Not like this. Not... like you."
His hand lifted... hesitant, reverent... and brushed a strand of hair that had slipped loose from my bun.
"You did all this... for ?"
"Yes."
The word left my lips in a soft sigh.
Simple. True.
Sothing shifted in his expression then... sothing warm and unbearably tender. His fingers slid down from my hair to my cheek, tracing my jaw with the lightest touch.
"Angel," he whispered, his voice trembling at the edges, "you are going to kill ."
I laughed softly, leaning into his touch. "That’s not the plan."
He stepped closer until our bodies were separated by only inches. His hand moved to the small of my back, guiding gently into his space. My heart fluttered wildly as his breath brushed my lips.
"I still want to know what this is for," he murmured. "The dress. The secrecy. The blindfold. All of it."
"Because I want tonight to be ours." I whispered, fingers curling lightly around his collar.
His forehead touched mine.
A soft exhale.
A quiet surrender.
"Anything you want," River said. "Anything."
The mont stretched between us... warm, fragile, filled with unspoken promises.
And then he pulled into his arms.
Held .
Not with possession.
Not with power.
But with sothing infinitely simpler and infinitely greater.
Love.
His thumb stroked my back as he whispered against my hair:
"Tell how I got this lucky."
I smiled into his shoulder, letting myself lt into him. "You didn’t," I whispered playfully. "I let you."
His laugh vibrated through my chest... low, warm, entirely his.
Pulling away, I once again slipped my hand in his and murmured, "Co with ."
He didn’t even hesitate. His fingers laced with mine, warm and steady, and I guided him toward the middle of the big room where waited a round dining table for two.
It was covered with a pristine white tablecloth and sitting on it were...
Crystal glasses.
Tall red candles burning softly between them.
And plates of steaming food arranged beautifully... everything he loved.
His steps slowed until he ca to a full stop. And his gaze finally took in his surrounding.
The entire hall glowed.
Soft golden lights hung from the ceiling in delicate strands, like fallen stardust. Dozens of candles flickered gently along the walls and on the long windowsills, filling the air with the warm scent of jasmine and sandalwood. The large windows were draped in sheer white curtains that swayed lightly in the night breeze.
"...Angel."
The way he used the endearnt... quiet, stunned, almost reverent... made my heart do a ridiculous little flip.
I squeezed his hand once more before releasing it and walking ahead to pull out his chair.
"Sit," I said softly.
He didn’t move for a mont. He just kept staring around the room, taking everything in - the flowers, the dim lights, the carefully folded napkins, the champagne cooling in the crystal bucket, the gentle glow of the candles reflecting off the polished floor.
"You did all this?" he finally asked, his voice rough.
I smiled. "With a little help. I planned it myself."
He slowly sank into the chair, his eyes still moving around the room as though afraid to blink. As I walked to my seat across from him, his gaze followed the entire way... quiet, focused, intense enough to warm my cheeks.
The soft music I had set up in the far corner began to play as I used my phone to start it - gentle piano mixed with soft strings. I watched as his shoulders relaxed, the tension slowly lting away.
He inhaled deeply, the faintest smile touching his lips. "It slls incredible."
"That’s because you love these dishes," I said, lifting the silver cover of the plate closest to him. "I helped make everything."
He blinked and then sothing warm flickered in his eyes.
We began to eat, slowly, quietly. He took his first bite and froze. A slow, genuine smile spread across his face... one of those rare ones he tried to hide but never quite managed to.
"This is perfect," he said.
"Good." I glanced at him over the rim of my glass. "I wanted tonight to be perfect."
His gaze softened again. "It is."
The dinner moved gently, wrapped in a warmth that needed no words. Every ti our fingers brushed while reaching for sothing, a soft spark shot up my arm. When I refilled his champagne, his eyes lingered on my face more than on the glass. Whenever he complinted the food or the decorations, it was the tone... low, husky, sincere... that made my pulse flutter.
He wasn’t just... looking at .
He was studying .
Holding quietly in his eyes.
As though he wanted to morize every expression.
And I felt every second of it.
After we finished, I rose slowly from my chair, smoothing the fabric of my gown. He watched every movent, his gaze slipping down the length of the dress before returning... unmistakably... to my eyes.
I walked around the table, feeling his attention... follow. When I extended a hand to him, his brows lifted slightly.
"What are you doing?" he asked softly.
I tilted my head, letting a small smile play on my lips. "Asking my mate for a dance."
His eyes darkened... not with desire, but with sothing deeper, softer.
He didn’t look away.
Didn’t even blink.
Just reached up silently and slid his fingers into mine.
As he stood, his hand tightened gently around mine, his thumb brushing against the back of my wrist in a way that sent warmth curling through my stomach.
There were no kisses.
No embraces.
No rushed movents.
Just a slow, undeniable pull between us.
Leading him toward the open space in the center of the hall, I felt his presence behind ... strong, warm, attentive. When we reached the candlelit clearing, I turned to face him.
The music swelled softly, filling the quiet.
River took one slow step closer, lifting our joined hands between us.
"Angel," he murmured, his voice deep and warm, "if this is a dream... don’t wake ."
My breath hitched the faintest bit.
"Then don’t stop dancing," I whispered.
He smiled and placed his free hand gently at my waist.
And just like that, we began to sway... slow, close, perfectly in sync.
The night felt like it belonged to us alone.
The world could wait.
Right now, all that existed was the soft glow of candles, the whisper of music...
and the man holding like I was sothing precious.
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