Chapter 43

The study was bathed in dim light as the glow from the desk lamp barely stretched beyond the surface of the polished mahogany desk. The place was filled with the scent of aged whiskey and the faint trace of gunpowder. To anyone, it would seem that he was in peace.

Yet right now, Valerian was restless.

He was seated in his leather chair with broad shoulders relaxed, and fingers tapping in an unhurried rhythm against the desk. But beneath the stillness lay something dangerous. A storm was held back only by the thin thread of control he had left.

It had been hours since Noelle vanished. It was as if she had been swallowed by the earth, leaving behind only the lingering scent of flowers on his coat when he carried her back to her room and the distant echo of her voice in his mind.

The frustration gnawed at him.

Noelle was his. She had been his from the moment she looked at him with defiance in her eyes and fear in her pulse. She just didn’t know it yet. And