Chapter Fifteen: Evangeline

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Chapter Fifteen: Evangeline

            “Evangeline.”

            I flinched badly at the sudden voice behind me, and the deep chuckle made me shiver.

            “It’s all right, Evie, I’m not going to hurt you.”

            I turned and forced a smile. “I know you’re not, Seth.”

            He smiled back at me, flashing too-white teeth in the dimness of the gardens.

            I couldn’t understand my sudden urge to back away. It had something to do with the way the shadows fell on his face.

            “Do you mind if I sit here with you?” he asked, gesturing toward the empty half of the bench next to me.

            “Of course,” I said absently, wondering how he’d managed to find me in this corner of the gardens.

            “It’s so peaceful out here tonight,” he remarked as he rested his weight on the stone bench.

            I made a noise of agreement, trying to ignore the shivers that ran up my spine as his warmth radiated over the inches that separated us.

            Why did I want to close the gap?

            Moon bounded toward me from across the gardens, returning from her explorations. A white blur in the darkness, she skidded to a sudden halt when she caught Seth’s scent.

            A low growl escaped her throat as the fur on her neck bristled.

            “Moon, stop it,” I said, nudging her lightly with my foot.

            She barely spared me a glance before letting loose another snarl.

            “Moon!” I hissed, sneaking a glance at Seth. He looked vaguely amused.

            “It’s all right, Evangeline. She’s just trying to protect you.”

             “Maybe I don’t want to be protected,” I muttered, half to myself, lowering my head.

            He laughed, and I flushed. I hadn’t expected him to hear.

            Had I?

            “Sweet Evangeline, don’t fret,” he said, tucking a lock of my hair behind my ear gently. “There are worse things in this life than being protected.”

            He caught my eyes with his own, and I found myself powerless to look away.

            They looked nearly black in the darkness, I realized, studying the hard lines of his face, the sharp angles of his nose and chin.

            I wished then that I had inherited my mother’s ability in drawing, so I could record this face, this moment in time, on paper, and keep a record for the rest of my life that wouldn’t change with time.

            I wished for one constant, beautiful thing in my life that wouldn’t leave.

            “Evangeline,” he said softly. I found myself loving the way he said my name.

            “Yes?” I breathed.

            “Your wolf is trying to eat my foot.”

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