The golden glow of the setting sun poured through the towering windows of the forest manor, bathing the wooden floors in amber light. The warmth of the fire crackled in the hearth, its embers flickering with quiet devotion. The scent of pine and crisp autumn leaves drifted in from the open balcony doors, mingling with the richer notes of sandalwood and spice—the scent of him.

Lucien Vanserra stood near the window, the last light of day dancing across the sharp angles of his face. His russet hair shimmered like molten copper, tousled from the wind that had swept through the woods earlier. He exuded the kind of ease that came from knowing he was exactly where he was meant to be—with you.

The bond hummed between you both, a golden thread of connection that neither of you questioned, only cherished. It was a quiet understanding, an unspoken tether that pulled you into the warmth of his embrace as he turned toward you. His arms, strong and sure, wrapped around your waist, drawing you against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat echoed against your cheek, a soothing lullaby in the fading twilight.

Outside, the rustling trees whispered secrets to the night, their branches swaying gently in the cool breeze. Inside, time slowed, the world shrinking to just the two of you. Lucien’s fingers traced lazy patterns along your spine, a reverent touch that sent shivers down your skin. His warmth seeped into you, wrapping you in a cocoon of safety, of belonging. He smelled like the wild—earthy and untamed, yet entirely yours.