Damon’s knuckles went white around the strap of the bag.
For a long second, he just stood there, rain still dripping off his jacket, jaw working like he had sothing else to say. But an Alpha’s aura wasn’t sothing you pushed through, not when it was sitting that heavy in the air. His fingers slowly uncurled.
"Can we talk after?" His voice ca out quieter than he probably intended.
"Sure." Voren took the bag without another word, already turning toward the stairs, his tone clipped enough to close the conversation completely.
He went up alone and knocked once. "Damon, is that you?" Seraphine’s voice ca through the door warm and unhurried. "You can co in."
Voren pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Seraphine spun around from where she stood near the window, one hand flying up to the collar of the robe she’d wrapped around herself. Her wet hair hung loose past her shoulders, dark from the shower, and her blue eyes went wide for just a half second before she caught herself.
"I thought it was Damon." She said it evenly enough, but her fingers stayed curled at her collar.
Sothing moved behind Voren’s eyes, a flicker, and gone. "Damon could walk in and not ?" The words ca out quiet, which sohow made them land harder. He wasn’t even sure why he’d said them out loud. They’d tasted strange on the way up, like sothing he should’ve kept to himself.
Seraphine crossed the room and took the bag from his hand, her eyes dropping away from his. "Thanks." She paused and lowered her head. "I used your towel and robe. I’ll replace them."
Voren’s brow pulled together. "Why would you do that?"
She turned back toward the vanity, setting the bag down and pulling the zipper. "It’s just the right thing to do."
He stared at the back of her head for a mont. Her hair was dripping slightly at the ends. Sothing about that detail sat in the back of his throat in a way he couldn’t quite swallow past.
Then Bloodfang’s voice slipped through, low and unbothered, like he’d been leaning against the wall waiting for exactly this mont.
’She slls incredible.’
And just like that he was gone again. Blocked himself out before Voren could even form a response, the ntal equivalent of soone dropping a lit match and walking away whistling. Voren’s jaw went tight. His back teeth pressed together.
"Just get dressed and co over," he said, his voice coming out more controlled than he felt. "I’ll dry your hair."
Seraphine went completely still with her hand inside the bag.
Then she turned around and looked at him like he’d just suggested sothing mildly offensive. "I’ve been doing my own hair since I was seven. I don’t need help."
She went into the bathroom and pulled the door shut behind her, and Voren stood in the middle of the room, waiting.
She ca out a few minutes later in her own clothes, her hair still damp and hanging loose, and sothing about being back in her own things seed to settle her. Her shoulders dropped. The stiffness she’d been carrying since they got back from the rain loosened a little.
She looked almost comfortable. Almost.
"Thank you," she said, picking up her bag and swinging it over her shoulder in one smooth motion. "I should get going."
She moved toward the door and didn’t look at him but Voren’s hand closed around her arm before he’d thought it through.
She stopped, and then he felt it, the faintest tremor running through her, the kind of thing you’d miss completely if you weren’t paying attention. His grip stayed gentle but he didn’t let go, and his eyes moved over her face, reading sothing there he couldn’t quite na.
"You’re trembling." His voice had dropped without him aning it to, low and close. "Are you afraid of ?"
Her eyes snapped up to his, and sothing flashed in them, quick and defensive.
She yanked her arm back, and turned toward the door again, faster this ti, fingers reaching for the knob, but his arm ca around her from behind.
Not rough. It was almost easy, and he scooped her up, one arm across her middle, lifting her clean off the ground like she weighed absolutely nothing, and carried her the three steps back to the bed.
He set her down on the edge of it like she was sothing he didn’t want to break, and then stepped back and grabbed the hairdryer off the vanity like none of that had just happened.
"Voren." Her voice ca through her teeth, low and furious. "What do you think you’re doing?"
"You’re not leaving this room with wet hair." He plugged the dryer in, turned it on low, and looked at her like he was waiting for her to argue.
She stared at him, thought about arguing, standing up, walking past him, or opening that door and not looking back.
But then, for a reason she absolutely refused to examine, she stayed right where she was.
She turned around on the edge of the bed so her back was to him, pulled her hair over one shoulder, and sat there with her arms folded and her chin lifted like this was all completely her idea.
The warm air hit the back of her neck and she hated how good it felt.
’See? I told you,’ Marsha’s voice curled through her thoughts, soft and a little smug. ’His wolf was right about him. He’s good, Sera.’
Seraphine’s fingers curled in her lap until her knuckles ached.
’He’s off limits,’ she shot back, keeping her face completely neutral so nothing showed on the outside. ’There are things called lines, Marsha, and this is one of them. I’d honestly rather end up with a human.’
Marsha went quiet after that. Not the kind of quiet that ans agreent, but the kind that ans hurt.
Seraphine stared at the wall and refused to feel guilty about it.
"There." Voren clicked the dryer off, and the sudden silence felt loud.
Seraphine stood up at the exact sa mont he reached past her to set the dryer down on the nightstand, and the distance between them collapsed without warning.
She felt the warmth of him before she registered how close it was, close enough that when she turned her head, she was looking directly at his jaw, at the sharp line of it, at the way the dim lamp light caught the edge of it.
Their faces nearly t.
"Sorry—" she breathed, already stepping back, already reaching for the door, her heart doing sothing embarrassing and erratic inside her chest.
Her hand found the knob, but his hand ca down over hers, and she stopped breathing.
His palm was warm against the back of her hand, large enough to cover it completely, and he didn’t move. Neither did she.
The door stayed closed. The room stayed warm and lamp-lit and way too quiet, and Voren was right there right behind her, close enough that she could feel the heat coming off him in waves, could catch the faint trace of leather and sothing darker underneath, sothing warr, sothing that had no business being that easy to breathe in.
Minty breath grazed the curve of her ear as he leaned in, just slightly, as he towered over her.
"It’s obvious," he murmured, "that you’re afraid of ." He paused, his breath strained. "What I can’t figure out is why." His voice had gone sowhere low and unhurried, sowhere that had no sharp edges left in it at all. "Am I that scary, Sera?"
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