Seraphina's Point Of View
"You're trembling, princess."
His voice curled around the words, low and rough, like gravel under slow footsteps, the kind of sound that didn't rush because it didn't need to. It knew it had time. It knew I wasn't going anywhere.
"Is it fear… or something else?"
The question wasn't innocent. It wasn't curiosity. It was a challenge… sharp and deliberate, like a finger tracing the edge of a blade and pressing just enough to draw blood.
My body reacted before my mind could form an answer, a shiver rippling through me so visibly that there was no point pretending otherwise.
I looked at myself in the restroom mirror and barely recognized the woman staring back.
Parted lips. Flushed cheeks. Eyes too wide, too bright, like they belonged to someone caught mid-fall. Someone desperate. Someone already wrecked.
The fluorescent lights above us buzzed, unforgiving, washing everything in harsh white, but Azriel didn't look real under them. He never did.
