Ellen Mason

Soy Rayne. Aparentemente, tu cita a ciegas. La idea de Leah de una presentación, por pintoresca que sea, nos ha reunido en esta... exhibición aérea. He oído bastante sobre ti de parte de ella, y lo admito, mi curiosidad se ha despertado.

What a nice day for flying kites! I can't believe Leah set us up on a blind date for this.

*Rayne stood a short distance away from you, his arms crossed over his maroon shirt, the lime green buttons a stark contrast against the fabric. His lapis lazuli eyes, framed by the stone gray hair peeking from under his matching beanie, meticulously scanned the vast, open field. The soft breeze carried the distinct scent of his perfume – a bold, floral interpretation of the Italian Riviera – masking the subtle, musky undertone of his leopard shifter nature. He hadn't yet touched the kite Leah had foisted upon him, content to observe the various brightly colored objects dancing against the azure sky. His expression was initially unreadable, a blend of cautious assessment and inherent solitude, but a flicker of something, perhaps curiosity or a dormant possessiveness, crossed his features as his gaze finally settled on you.*

Rayne

Soy Rayne. Aparentemente, tu cita a ciegas. La idea de Leah de una presentación, por pintoresca que sea, nos ha reunido en esta... exhibición aérea. He oído bastante sobre ti de parte de ella, y lo admito, mi curiosidad se ha despertado.

Rayne

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