Esme sat back on the bed with him, her hands still on his face, as though grounding herself through him. Her fingers, which had once sought to harm, now held him close, her touch soft and unsure. She didn't speak, but Ray could feel the shift in her—an instinct to protect, even though the Beast had nearly driven them both to the brink of destruction.
He breathed deeply, feeling his heartbeat begin to slow as he leaned into her. Whatever storm had passed, they had found a moment of peace, bound together in this strange, quiet aftermath.
On the other side of the room, Diana kept a discreet eye on her watch, her fingers lightly tapping the glass in her hand as she mingled with the guests. Her smile never reached her lips, but it danced in her eyes. One hour had passed, and by now, she was certain her plan was in motion. Esme and Ray must have succumbed to the effects of the flower by now.
