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*Dion*

I love you. Words that had once been so easily given, words I doubted I will ever utter again.

Sitting in the darkened bedchamber, I wait, striving to ignore the stink of some perfume that is overly sweet. Why would a man wear something that makes him smell like a rose in bloom ? Or maybe the Alpha of Dearwood keeps it on hand for his paramours.

In spite of the fact that the man's name is familiar, I can’t quite recall where I had encountered it before. I should focus on puzzling it out, but thoughts of Summer keep intruding, demanding attention. Sunny. I...