Chapter 1835 Wynter's Origin

It was Dalton, who was now in his adult form. But before Wynter could register the irresistible sensation of his touch, what struck her first was his distinct scent. Sandalwood, cool and faintly crisp—aloof and detached, yet strangely intoxicating. Like Dalton himself, it carried the untouchable austerity of a snow-capped peak, as if it could freeze everything in its path. Yet, his embrace was domineering. When his fingers brushed the curve of her ear, a heat seared Wynter despite his presence's chill. His other hand gripped her wrist firmly, pulling her closer against him as he fixed his gaze on Raleigh, as if it was a silent warning. Not that Wynter noticed. All she could feel was the cool clarity he brought, cutting through the suffocating miasma around them. Everything else faded, and her senses narrowed to him alone. His voice, low and deliberate, resonated against the back of her ear—her most sensitive spot, one few would know. The proximity sent an involuntary shiver dow