He should have looked absurd. Out of place. Like a king dragged out of a fantasy.
But he didn’t. He looked…gorgeous.
Fuck. Why the hell was am I noticing that?
Boaz looked away, and focused on Lyla. He had to speak to her before the vampire could even take a step inside.
The scent of food grew heavier as he approached. People moved in every direction, talking over each other, unaware of the war raging in his chest.
“Hey, Lyla,” Boaz called, raising his voice enough for her to hear him over the noise. She glanced up at him, her face lighting up. “Can we talk?”
“Uhm…” she said looking around her, and then she pointed down at the food she was dishing out, her attention already moving again.
Boaz followed the gesture, his gaze sweeping over the barn. The long tables were filling fast, hungry werewolves settling in waiting for their food. There was no way she was stepping away anytime soon.
“Need any help?” he asked, a little louder now.
“Yeah,” she said eagerly, flashing him another quick smile as she pressed a heavy dish of mashed potatoes into his hands. “Table three,” she added, nodding toward the far end.
Boaz moved quickly, weaving through the crowd, careful not to jostle the dish as he set it down where she’d indicated. When he returned, another plate was pushed into his hands. Then another. And another.
By the time the last dish was set down, everyone was digging in and Boaz had barely said two words to Lyla. He looked around the barn for her and stopped short when he spotted her. Next to her was… Alexander.
Somehow, in the chaos, the vampire had claimed the seat next to Lyla’s and those damn flowers were resting beside her like a quiet declaration.
Boaz’s jaw tightened at the sight; a wave of anger twisted in his stomach. He forced it down as he moved to the only empty chair left at the table, which was directly across from Alexander.
He would have preferred to sit next to Lyla, but this… this would have to do. He pulled the chair back and sat, his entire focus on Lyla.
“How was your day, Lyla?” he asked. The moment the words left his mouth, he winced.
Was that really the best he could do?
“Oh… my day was… okay, I guess.” She made a face, like she couldn’t quite decide how she felt about it, then quickly scooped a bite of food into her mouth.
Boaz nodded before forcing himself to speak again.
“I missed you in the meadow today,” he said as he scooped up a spoonful of mashed potatoes.
“Oh…yeah,” she replied, chewing. “I always feel like I’m disturbing you when you’re painting.”
“Not at all,” Boaz said quickly. “You make everything look beautiful."
Lyla blinked, caught off guard. A faint blush crept across her cheeks. “I do?”
Boaz leaned forward unable to help himself. “Yeah. The flowers in the meadow seem brighter when you’re there… and the birds…” he laughed almost embarrassed by his own words, “…they sound better too.”
A soft, derisive snort cut through the moment.
Boaz’s jaw tightened as his eyes locked onto Alexander. “Do you have something to say?” he asked.
“No,” Alexander said smoothly.
Boaz’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure? It sounded like you did.”
For a heartbeat, the noise in the barn seemed to dull around them as Alexander lifted his gaze.
And when their eyes met, something in Boaz’s chest pulled tight. He watched as the blue in Alexander’s eyes darkened, slowly bleeding into red.