The Betrayed Princess Rising (Lylah and Ezra) novel Chapter 170

Chapter 170

Lylah’s POV

Isaac’s slap had left a faint reddish imprint along my cheekbone. So before heading home, I stopped by a small store to buy foundation and applied it in the restroom, carefully layering it over my cheek.

My wolf’s healing was already working beneath my skin, but the mark hadn’t faded quickly enough for my liking.

By morning, it should be gone.

At least, that was what I was counting on.

“Luna,” Damon greeted the moment I stepped through the door.

I offered him a smile. It wasn’t like him to be here this late.

Before I could ask why, a different scent reached me.

Oil paint and fresh canvas.

My gaze drifted past Damon to the stranger seated behind a large, blank canvas propped on a wooden easel.

“Damon, who is that?” I asked, gesturing toward the man.

“Luna, meet Jace,” Damon said. “The best painter in Lunaris. Alpha Ezra personally called for him.”

The painter stood and dipped into a respectful bow.

‘And he’s here to paint you, Luna.”

I blinked. “Me?”

Surely I had misheard.

But before Damon could explain further, a deep, familiar voice cut through the room.

“To paint us together.”

My head turned instantly toward the sound.

Ezra stepped into view–and for a moment, my heart forgot how to beat.

I had never seen him like this before.

He wore his Alpha’s formal attire, dark and commanding, with the ceremonial cloak of his Pack draped over his broad shoulders. The silver embroidery caught the light like moonbeams woven into fabric. The raw authority of an Alpha clung to him, heavy enough to press against my wolf’s instincts.

Warmth crept into my cheeks as he approached.

Isaac’s slap had left a faint reddish imprint along my cheekbone. So before heading home, I stopped by a small store to buy foundation and applied it in the restroom, carefully layering it over my cheek

My wolf’s healing was already working beneath my skin, but the mark hadn’t faded quickly enough for my liking.

By morning, it should be gone.

At least, that was what I was counting on.

“Luna,” Damon greeted the moment I stepped through the door.

I offered him a smile. It wasn’t like him to be here this late.

Before I could ask why, a different scent reached me.

Oil paint and fresh canvas.

My gaze drifted past Damon to the stranger seated behind a large, blank canvas propped on a wooden easel.

“Damon, who is that?” I asked, gesturing toward the man.

[ blinked. “Me?”

He wore his Alpha’s formal attire, dark and commanding, with the ceremonial cloak of his Pack draped over his broad shoulders. The silver embroidery caught the light like moonbeams woven into fabric. The raw authority of an Alpha clung to him, heavy enough to press against my wolf’s instincts.

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