SERAPHINA’S POV
If you ever need a textbook definition of irony, here’s one: last night, when I faced the bear, I had wished for Kieran’s presence.
Now, he was here. But it sure as hell wasn’t to protect me.
The moment my gaze locked on Ashar atop the jagged stone, a surge of emotions rose within me.
Not just awe—though the sheer magnitude of his presence demanded that.
Not just fear—though my pulse tripped violently at the sight of him.
It was…something else. Something raw. Elemental. Difficult to quantify.
My chest tightened as though invisible chains yanked taut. They pulled me toward him—even as they tore me apart from myself, all at the same time.
His coat shimmered like liquid sunlight caught in snow, each ripple of muscle beneath that fur announcing lethal grace.
And his eyes—gods, his eyes. They were fixed on me, pinning me in place like a moth fixed to a collector’s board.
