It was simple, natural… and yet, with her long blonde hair still slightly damp and trailing down her back, her blue eyes bright from the hot spring's heat, and her soft pink lips parted with a breath, Isabella looked like something pulled out of a forgotten dream.
She didn't wear makeup here—there was no need. Not when the moonlight kissed her skin and the night air brushed gently against her cheeks. She gave herself a once-over, fluffed her hair, and grinned.
Cute enough, she thought.
Then she turned and made her way toward him.
Kian hadn't moved from his spot. He was seated at the edge of the spring, broad back turned to her, his silhouette still as stone. One leg stretched out, the other bent casually at the knee.
His short white hair was damp, the strands sticking slightly to the nape of his neck, catching the glow of the moonlight like frost on stone. The steam wrapped around him like he belonged to the night itself.
He looked like he was carved out of silence.
