Sloane's POV
Stepping out of the restaurant and into the cool evening, the street is quiet, lit only by the amber glow of distant lampposts, but the real heat comes from Xavier’s fingers lacing firmly through mine.
Zia is already butter and remains in the puddle.
“How about a light stroll?” Instead of heading back towards the hotel, Xavier smoothly guides me, walking in the opposite direction. The urban noise begins to fade, replaced by the cool, sharp night air and the quiet rustle of trees.
We walk along the quiet sidewalk, the rhythm of our steps synchronized in the dark. For a while, we just talk. Light, unhurried conversation about nothing in particular, enjoying the rare freedom of being miles away from the watchful eyes of the pack.
As we walk, a question slowly takes root in m
