Eros looked at Mirabella with a blank expression. The soft touch of her hands petting his hair was so featherlight that if he didn't focus, he couldn't even tell if it was her hand or the air brushing against him. His lips twitched slightly.
"My lady, you need to improve your method of consolation," he stated wryly.
Mirabella withdrew her hand and settled back into her chair. "Alaric always consoles me like this, and it makes me feel better," she said earnestly.
Eros stared directly at her, his sharp eyes locking onto hers. Her innocent amber eyes gleamed brightly, untainted and pure. She reminded him of a fresh flower plucked from the castle garden in Everdale—a beauty untouched by harsh winds or rain, glistening in the morning dew. His jaw clenched as dark thoughts began to cloud his mind.
