The spectacular fireworks display dazzled Miss Gunpowder Artist, causing her to lean on Byron; her azure eyes glistened.
Blushing with excitement, her cheeks glowed with a crimson hue that mirrored the sunset on the horizon.
The fresh, delightful fragrance of gardenias from her intensified, stoking the restlessness in Byron's heart, who had not been separated from her for this long since they had affirmed their relationship.
He reached out to encircle her slender waist with his arm and lowered his head to gently nibble at her translucent earlobe,
"Now, Your Highness, your gun has been fired. Isn't it my turn to shoot next?"
Byron's warm breath in her ear made Violet's body go weak.
But the Little Witch was always a Little Witch; she never accepted defeat, and her dictionary lacked the word 'retreat.' Always down but never out, ready to fight again after every loss.
She turned to look directly into Byron's eyes, lifting her delicate chin defiantly,
