SERAPHINA’S POV
Kieran hadn’t said a word since we left the clearing.
I leaned back against the door of our room for a second, watching him.
He moved through the space with quiet efficiency. He lit a low lamp by the bed, his hands trembling as he set things in place with an almost painfully precise care. The faraway look in his eyes was edged with worry, as if each motion was his way to fend off some rising dread.
The tension sat in his shoulders, in the slight rigidity of his movements, in the way his jaw tightened and loosened with every breath.
“You’re brooding,” I said softly.
He didn’t turn to me.
“I’m not,” he replied.
I raised a brow, even though he couldn’t see it. “You are.”
A pause.
Then a quiet exhale.
He turned to face me, and the instant our eyes met, frustration flashed sharp and raw across his face before he reined it in.
“I’m thinking,” he corrected.
“Dangerous,” I murmured.
That earned me the faintest flicker of an almost-smile.
“About you,” he added.
