Chapter 0088

Donovan flashes Genevieve his most charming smile. "So, Genevieve, got anything exciting planned for tomorrow night?"

She barely glances up from her phone. "Same as always. Silver Fang."

His grin widens. "Need some company?"

Genevieve offers him a practiced, polite smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "Already covered, but thanks."

Her responses are clipped, borderline dismissive. I watch Donovan's interest spike—nothing fuels his pursuit like a challenge. Genevieve doesn't realize she's just made herself irresistible.

I turn my attention back to Evelyn. "Need a ride home?"

She shakes her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm good, but I appreciate it."

The rest of the day follows the same rhythm. I carry her books between classes, my fingers brushing hers whenever I can. When the final bell rings, I walk her to her car, my pulse thrumming.

She unlocks the door but pauses, turning to face me. I step into her space, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her skin. The parking lot is too public for what I really want, so I cage her against the car, my lips grazing her ear. "Thanks for the invite. Counting the minutes until tonight, little guardian."

My breath ghosts over her neck as I nip her earlobe. Her heartbeat kicks up, loud enough for me to hear. She swallows hard, voice shaky. "It's just dinner. Don't get too excited."

I press my forehead to hers. "Every second with you is a gift." I kiss the tip of her nose before stepping back, savoring the flush creeping up her cheeks. She's still rooted to the spot when I slide into my car beside Donovan.

At home, I shower and change in record time—dark jeans, a fitted black sweater, boots. No way am I telling my father about tonight. He'd find a way to ruin it.

I nearly collide with my mother in the hallway. "Hey, Mom."

"Adrian." She catches my arm. "You're coming to Ivy's memorial, right?"

I freeze. Dinner with Evelyn had eclipsed everything else. Guilt twists in my gut as I take her hands. "Mom, I can't. I have plans."

Her face falls. "Plans?"

"A date," I clarify, expecting her delight.

Instead, her frown deepens. "A date?"

"Yeah. With Evelyn, actually. She invited me to dinner with her, Dad, and Mr. Sinclair."

Her eyes widen. Then, like the sun breaking through clouds, she beams. "She's your mate."

"Not that she knows yet. But the bond's there—I can feel it."

Mom cups my face, her joy palpable. "I'll tell Ivy tonight. She'd be thrilled."

"Don't tell Dad."

"Only if you promise details tomorrow."

"Deal."

I stop at a florist on the way. Red roses this time—for love.