The faint hum of the sea wrapped around the villa like a heartbeat. Waves licked at the rocky shore far below, and the warm glow of lanterns flickered across the terrace, casting golden shadows that danced over polished marble and glass.
Zayn Specter stood at the edge of the railing, his back straight, one hand wrapped around a crystal tumbler that caught the fading light. He didn’t turn immediately when he heard footsteps — the soft click of heels against stone — but every muscle in his body went still, alert, aware.
When he finally looked over his shoulder, his breath hitched.
Lana Pearson stepped into view, wearing a dress the color of twilight. The silk-blue fabric clung delicately to her curves before flowing down like liquid light.
Damn it.
His grip on the glass tightened.
Tha
