Darius's POV
By nightfall, camp was finally set. Cassian assigned the night watch, men drifted around the fire like ghosts, and the horses chewed lazily on dry grass. The day’s tension hung over everyone like smoke.
But the tension wasn’t only in the soldiers.
It was in me.
And in her.
The tent was dim, lit only by a single oil lamp, its orange glow staining the canvas walls. Seraphine sat across from me, legs crossed, arms folded, staring with a look that said her patience was thinner than thread. Her posture looked calm, but the tight shoulders and clenched jaw betrayed her. Those violet eyes of hers flickered like a storm barely held back.
And every time she looked at me, something raw tore through my chest — anger, desire, restraint… and that cursed pull we could no longer preten
