SERAPHINA’S POV
For a while, I just stared at Corin.
Sea-green and blue eyes. Wind-tousled hair. The scent of sea salt and citrus. That easy smile, never strained, even with a rogue pinned under his boot.
And then laughter burst from me—sharp, breathless, edged with adrenaline and disbelief.
“Corin?” I breathed. “What are you doing here?”
The rogue groaned, trying to push up again. Corin shifted his weight, and the man went still with a strangled sound.
Corin flashed a grin. "Interrupting. You seemed fine, but figured I'd step in."
I laughed again. “No, smartass. I mean, here in LA.”
“Ah.” He shrugged again. “I’m late, actually. For the Hunting Festival.”
“Wha—”
Behind us, Nightfang guards reached the crest of the hill, weapons trained on the downed rogue. One of them aimed his silver-tipped spear at Corin.
“Lady—”
“He’s not a threat,” I said without hesitation. “He’s my friend.”
