Seraphine's POV
Darius’s arm held me like a hard arc, yet it didn’t squeeze. Against his chest I felt his breath—deep, slow, as though he was forcing steadiness into himself by will alone. His thumb traced small circles on my wrist, and each touch sent that same tingling through me, making it both easier and harder to breathe. The half-light of the tent pressed close around us, the faint glow through the canvas casting pale stripes across the ground.
“This… this is it,” Darius whispered, as if afraid his voice might break whatever fragile thing had formed between us. “You feel it too.”
I nodded. I didn’t dare move more; my throat still burned, my wound throbbed beneath the bandage. Yet inside, something deeper—a stubborn, silent force—pulled me toward him.
The pull.
I didn’t want to n
