SERAPHINA’S POV
I sucked in a breath as I was pulled sharply to the side, into a narrow, shadowed walkway just out of sight.
A hard, warm chest pressed against mine, rising and falling with restrained intensity. I didn’t need to look up to know whose arms were caging me against the wall.
The bond flared, loud and unfiltered, and every emotion hit me at once—possession, fear, longing, frustration, desperation.
Kieran.
His scent washed over me, suffocating in its familiarity. I pressed my palms to his chest—not to pull him closer, but to keep space between us.
His heart pounded so fiercely, it felt like it wanted to tattoo itself on my palm.
“Kieran,” I hissed, voice low so the passing partygoers wouldn’t hear. “What the fuck are you doing?”
His jaw flexed. He didn’t budge.
“Trying,” he said, voice rough, “to stop losing my mind.”
I blinked, startled by how quickly the atmosphere shifted from confrontation to raw vulnerability.
