At 7, we walked back down the stairs. Seeing a young woman waiting for us, dressed very formal like some sort of butler. I bit my lip, hoping I was not underdressed in my purple silk dress. It had spaghetti straps and fitted my body like a glove. Once Noah had seen me in it, he wanted to rip it off my body, so I had to persuade him to wait for tonight, when we would be back in our room, once this dinner was behind us. Which, luckily, he could live with. Noah was wearing black jeans and a dark grey shirt. As usual, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Apparently a fashion statement within the Denali pack, since I have never seen a man inside our community wear a shirt with the sleeves down, unless it is a formal event like a mating ceremony or such. The woman downstairs welcomed us, and ask
