~ Alaric's POV ~
The room smelled of spiced tea, scorched cedar, and moon-kissed skin.
And her.
Seraphina.
She sat across from me in the firelight, her silver hair falling over one shoulder, catching the glow like threads of light. Her cheeks were pink, lips slightly parted, still breathless from our kiss.
A mistake.
A necessary sin.
And yet, I could no more undo it than I could tear the marrow from my own bones.
I shouldn’t have touched her.
But f**k, I couldn’t stop.
The moment her lips touched mine, something wild and old broke free inside me — a storm I’d kept buried for years. I was made for war, for blood and violence. Not for tenderness. Not for the soft press of mouths and trembling hands.
Yet with her… I wanted to be everything and nothing all at once.
Mine.
The words
