Eve needed air.
After the emotional confrontation with Silas, after seeing his battered face and feeling his anguish through their connection, She needed space to breathe. To think. To process everything that had happened in the last forty-eight hours.
The training session with Elder Markov had been postponed. Even he recognized that Eve was operating on emotional fumes, that pushing her powers right now would be dangerous for everyone involved.
So she'd escaped to the gardens.
It was late afternoon, the sun casting long shadows across the meticulously maintained grounds. Sarah's roses were indeed in full bloom, their fragrance heavy in the warm air. Eve found a secluded bench near the back of the garden, partially hidden by a trellis covered in climbing jasmine.
She sat down heavily, letting her head fall back against the wooden slats, and closed her eyes.
Cain's golden eyes. His hand on her throat. "Soon, little mate."
