Seated at the restaurant, there was a table between them. Annabelle's face carried a sadness as she glanced at Alpha Alvin's hand hidden beneath the table.
She had inadvertently wounded his hand with her sword while training in the field, over weeks ago, and it still hadn't healed.
As a werewolf, he should have healed instantly, and as an Alpha, it should have been even quicker. Yet, it lingered, leaving her troubled.
He lifted his face and found her gaze fixed on his hands. Swiftly, she shifted her attention to the food on her plate.
The meal was not as bountiful as before. Just two plates of food and two glasses of wine now.
"It's delicious. No wonder you picked this place," he remarked with a playful lip noise with his lips.
Glancing up, he saw her silence, her fork idly moving around her plate.
"Have you lost your appetite again? Aren't you hungry?" he asked, his spoon stirring through his food.
