Chapter 65
Chapter 65
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Snowflakes
“We are so happy to have you here, Mrs. Snow. We were actually expecting you as the representative for humans and another representative for the werewolves. That was the report we were given,” Priest Johan said, and it took a while before I could speak.
It was evening, and I had arrived at St. Coast Chapel alone. The people here were kind and warm, may the Lord bless them, and the priest had called me in to discuss arrangements, along with two other chapel staff.
“Yes, he was supposed to come but…” I was still speaking when the door opened carefully and a nun walked in, placing the warm tea she had promised to prepare.
I smiled at her in appreciation before turning back to the priest, ready to give an explanation for why Cupid couldn’t attend tonight. I hated that I had to lie on holy ground.
“Actually, he has been p>
“I’m here p>
A deep voice came from the doorway, cutting through my words gently, and I froze. The handle of the teacup nearly slipped from my hand.
I couldn’t believe it, so I took my time turning to look, and there he was. Cupid Godlike. My breath caught, my heart leaping to my throat as strange, overwhelming feelings spread through my chest. I didn’t understand why I reacted like this simply because he was standing at the doorway.
“Mr. Cupid Godlike?” one of the chapel representatives said, and I shifted my gaze toward the speaker. He seemed to recognize Cupid, his eyes trailing over him like Cupid was the embodiment of sin.
My eyes followed the man’s gaze, and I looked back at Cupid, wondering why he had come when
calls. Desmond said he wasn’t available, why he had shown up after refusing to pick my
“He is my partner for the event,” I murmured to Priest Johan, whose jaw slowly dropped. He took another glance at Cupid before pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
I understood why silence spread across the meeting room. Cupid was different. He looked different. His presence, his aura, everything about him shifted the air.
Tonight he wore casual clothes, but the more casually he dressed, the more rugged, polished, and dangerously refined he appeared.
His forearms were exposed, tattoos bare for everyone to see, but in this holy house no one judged him. Priest Johan immediately smiled and welcomed him.
Cupid didn’t pay him any attention. His eyes were locked on me, as if I were the only one in that room. After several heart–stopping seconds, he dropped his gaze and walked off.
His sudden departure made me swallow, and I blinked softly, wondering why he had to be so impossibly
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awkward.
“I know him,” the representative who had spoken Cupid’s name murmured, almost to himself. “He is the youngest son of Alpha Ruis. He doesn’t associate with people. Word is he lives alone somewhere no one can ever find p>
We all looked at him as he spoke, and the silence drew me in.
A place where no one can ever find?
Does he live in isolation?
Why?
“Mrs. Snow?… Mrs. Snow!” The gentle voice called before someone nudged me, snapping me from my thoughts.
I blinked, startled at myself. This was the second time I had zoned out today. It felt like my reality vanished, and only after minutes did I return.
“Mrs. Snow, are you okay?” Priest Johan asked with concern. I swallowed and offered a small smile.
I glanced at my wristwatch and nodded gently.
“I must be on my way home now, Priest Johan. I’ll be back next week for the donation p>
“That is very good. I was thinking we could choose the night of Thanksgiving. That way we celebrate many things. What do you think p>
I paused, then smiled. I’d probably be back home with my human family at Thanksgiving. This would be the first Thanksgiving I’d celebrate with them in four years.
“I will see if my schedule allows that, but next week without fail, I’ll be here with my partner p>
“Good. Good p>
I got up and they all stood as well, walking me out of the room and into the open. When we reached the gate, I paused because they paused. Cupid Godlike hadn’t left.
He was waiting outside where he parked his car, leaning against it, and I watched him from where I stood, wondering why he was still here.
“I should go now. Thank you so much for your time,” I said to Priest Johan, who smiled, and I walked out of the gate toward Cupid.
For a long moment I simply stood a few feet away, offered him a curt bow, and turned to leave, only for his low voice to cut through the night behind me.
“You didn’t bring your car p>
It wasn’t a question.
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“Yes,” I answered, glancing back just once. He closed the distance with slow, deliberate steps until he stood right in front of me, green eyes searching mine.
“Let me give you a ride,” he offered, voice softer than I’d ever heard it. For a second it almost undid me. But I shook my head.
“I’m fine. I’ll call a taxi,” I murmured, turning away again.
His fingers closed around my wrist before I could take a step, the sudden contact sending a shock straight between my legs. He tugged me gently but firmly back to him, eyes locking onto mine again.
“Don’t say no. I’m not letting you walk out there alone at night,” he said, leaving no room for argument. Then he guided me toward the car, opened the passenger door, and waited.
I hesitated, heart hammering. I hated how much I loved his protectiveness, hated how this stranger, this man who was everything my husband wasn’t made goosebumps race across my skin.
I dropped my gaze and slid into the cool leather seat. The luxury of the interior wrapped around me like a second skin.
He followed, settling behind the wheel. For a beat he just looked at me, silent and unreadable. Then he leaned in. I turned my face away, bracing for a kiss I wasn’t ready to give, but his hand only reached past me for the seatbelt.
He drew it across my body slowly, deliberately, fingers brushing the swell of my breast as he clicked it into place.
He knew I was angry. He didn’t care. The touch felt like a claim all the same.
“Let’s go, shall we?” he said quietly, lips mere inches from mine. My throat went dry; words felt impossible. He was so unfairly beautiful it was almost offensive.
I managed only a tiny nod.
And because he never misses an opportunity, he closed the distance and kissed me anyway. It was soft, brief, devastating. A spark flared low in my belly, heat flooding my veins that had been cold for years.
He pulled back, started the engine, and drove into the night as if he hadn’t just set my entire body on fire with a single brush of his lips.
Cedella
Cedella is a passionate storyteller known for her bold romantic and spicy novels that keep readers hooked from the very first chapter. With a flair for crafting emotionally intense plots and unforgettable characters, she blends love, desire, and drama into every story she writes. Cedella’s storytelling style is immersive and addictive—perfect for fans of heated romances and heart-pounding twists.