Vivian’s POV
Confronted with my inquisitive question, Albert's crimson lips curved upward. Though I couldn't glimpse his eyes, I was almost certain he awaited my verbalization of this query.
"Because I'm using a unique flute, only witches can perceive my melody and werewolves are incapable of detecting it," Albert silently approached me, his presence virtually devoid of sound. He raised his hand, a flute nestled in his palm, "Vivian, this is for you."
I didn't desire anything from Albert, yet his voice seemed to wield an enchanting power, coaxing me to extend my hand.
In a state of uncertainty, I found myself grasping the dainty flute. It was no thicker than my fingers and hardly longer than theirs. The flute's surface was icy cold, akin to Albert's own frigid touch.
Only upon touchin
