Aitana's POV
Madrid was a beautiful city. If I came here again, I would love to visit, but since we came here on a mission, I can't stay and enjoy the sights like a tourist. The cobblestone streets, the grand architecture, the scent of churros and coffee drifting from cafés—it all felt like a cruel tease when we were here for blood and vengeance, not tapas and flamenco.
Tristan walked beside me, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp, scanning the crowds. In his dark jeans and leather jacket, he looked every bit the carefree traveler.
A very sexy, carefree traveler. Those muscles couldn't be hidden even if he wore a tunic, and his height made him stand out easily amongst the crowd.
"You’re staring," he murmured, lips barely moving.
I blinked and looked away, my face blushing. "Just
