SERAPHINA’S POV
The first thing I registered when I woke was the absence of motion.
The violent rocking of yesterday—the waves pitching me into nausea, into that medicated haze, into Kieran’s arms—was gone.
The yacht had stilled into something softer, more docile. Only the faint hum of the engines and the muffled slap of water against the hull reminded me we were still cutting through the waters of Exuma Sound.
I sat up gingerly, bracing to see if my stomach would betray me again, but the queasiness had ebbed to a dull echo. My head throbbed faintly, like I’d woken from a night of drinking.
A knock sounded at my cabin door.
I dragged myself out of bed and smoothened my clothes before trudging to the door, hoping it was Kieran, and wishing it wasn’t.
“Lady Seraphina?” It was one of the crew members, a young man with a sunburnt nose and too-wide eyes. “Forgive the intrusion, but—” He hesitated, shifting his weight. “We…we can’t seem to reach Alpha Kieran.”
