Dimitri POV
Ariana clung to him like the little koala he'd named her, with her fingers digging into his shirt and the muscles of his chest. He didn't care. She could cling for eternity if she wanted.
Anything to take that look off her face.
Of all the sights he could imagine when he walked into his bedroom, he hadn't predicted Ariana sitting on the lavish embroidered black-and-gold bedspread with her head in her hands, sobbing her heart out.
"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" He stroked her hair. "I thought you'd be happy to be in Paris."
She mumbled a word he couldn't make out, but after centuries, he knew what to do. He made a sympathetic noise and held her tightly.
Her slight body in his arms made him want to protect her and hold her and keep her away from all harm. No more tears. If he had anything to do with it, she'd never cry again.
