Third Person's POV
Mortimer choked on his own absurd thoughts, which triggered a violent coughing fit.
The burning in his lungs was brutal. He knew this was a self-inflicted wound—the price of his midnight stunt on the balcony.
The last time he felt this wrecked was a year ago, when he'd taken a hit of wolfsbane toxin during a border dispute.
That stuff was designed to paralyze the wolf and slow-cook your internal organs. He'd been stuck in a fever dream for days.
Back then, Seraphina had cleared her entire schedule at the healing center to nurse him.
She'd been a ghost by his side, her soft, steady "mate" scent acting as the only painkiller that actually worked.
Looking back now, he realized how much of her devotion he'd treated like background noise.
But today, he wasn't going to
