SERAPHINA’S POV
By the ti we left the rink, the air had cooled for the evening. The parking lot lights glimred against the polished hoods of parked cars, and a gentle breeze teased strands of my hair.
Daniel bounced between us, his cheeks still flushed from the ga, his grin brighter than the neon glow of the café sign.
“That was aweso!” he declared for what must’ve been the fifth ti, playing hopscotch on the thin line between exuberance and chaos. “Did you see that last move, Mom? Dad passed the puck and—boom! Goal!”
Kieran chuckled from beside , and I was a little too aware of his warmth sinking into my side.
“I did,” I said, my grin almost as wide as Daniel’s. “You were super impressive, baby.”
Maxwell’s laughter bood from behind us. “You two make quite the team,” he said, catching up with Noah and Zach in tow. The boys looked winded but grinning, their hair sticking to their foreheads.
“Honestly, I should’ve known better than to underestimate a Blackthorne duo.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Kieran replied easily, extending his hand. The earlier tension I’d noticed when he first t Maxwell seed to have dissipated on the ice.
“You and your boys held your ground. Those twins have quick reflexes. You train them yourself?”
“Every weekend,” Maxwell said, pride edging his tone. “But Daniel here might just outshine us all one day.”
Noah and Zach exchanged glances, their smiles faltering just a fraction. There was a faint stiffness to their shoulders—sothing I might not have noticed if I hadn’t spent years hiding my own, subtle, quiet hurts.
Daniel, oblivious as ever to envy, grinned brightly. “You guys were amazing too! We should play again. Maybe next weekend?”
For a heartbeat, the twins hesitated. Then Noah nodded quickly. “Sure. That’d be cool.”
Zach mirrored the nod, though his tone ca out a little forced. “Yeah, totally.”
Maxwell gave Daniel an approving pat on the head. “You’ve got good sportsmanship, kid. Keep that up.”
Then he turned to . “And you’ve got quite a son, Seraphina.”
“Thank you,” I said, my smile softening. “He’s my whole world.”
Kieran’s gaze flicked toward then, brief but weighted. Before I could read further into it, Daniel tugged on my sleeve, instantly refocusing my attention.
“Mom, can we invite Dad to dinner?” he asked. “To thank him for playing with .”
I hesitated.
Dinner. With Kieran. After the way he’d smiled at on the ice—after that brief, foolish hope that had made my heart stutter.
Did I not just say I was wary of more family outings?
But then Daniel gave that pleading, hopeful look that could lt steel.
I sighed, defeated. “All right. But we’re not eating out. I’ll cook.”
Kieran arched a brow. “Cook? You sure about that?”
No, I wasn’t sure about that. What the hell was I doing inviting Kieran to my ho to cook him a al?
But instead of backtracking, I shot him a look. “Do you want to eat or not?”
Say no. Say no. Say no.
He pursed his lips and gave a curt nod. “I’d love to.”
Wonderful.
***
Ho was warm when we walked in, the faint sll of cinnamon lingering from the morning’s tea.
Daniel dashed upstairs, still buzzing with post-ga energy. “I gotta go shower!”
“You don’t have to run!” I called after him.
“Too late!” ca his muffled voice, already distant.
I exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking my head as I headed for the kitchen. “I don’t know where he gets his energy from.”
Kieran followed and paused at the doorway, watching with an unreadable expression. “He gets it from you.”
I blinked at him. “From ?”
“Yeah.” His voice dropped slightly, softer. “The way you cheer for him, the way your energy and light fill a room—it’s contagious. Undeniable.”
The complint caught off guard. I turned to the fridge to busy my hands—and hide the flush in my cheeks—bringing out the vegetables I’d prepped earlier and the other ingredients for dinner.
Kieran didn’t say anything after that, and I could almost pretend he wasn’t in the kitchen. Except that was impossible.
He was still standing at the doorway, but his presence filled the entire room like a steadily inflating balloon.
The kitchen shrank with him in it. The air thickened. When he moved, his scent curled around almost as tangibly as physical touch.
“Need help with anything?” he asked.
I shook my head, setting veggies on the counter. “No, I’ve got it.”
“Co on, it’s the least I can do.”
He moved to the sink, rolling up his sleeves, the flex of his forearms catching my eye before I could chide myself for staring. He started rinsing the plates I’d set aside from breakfast.
“I said I’ve got it,” I repeated, firr this ti.
He glanced over, lips twitching. “Relax, Sera. It’s just washing dishes.”
“That’s not the point.” My voice ca out sharper than intended, and I snatched the soap-slick plate out of his hand.
He paused. “Then what is?”
“That—” I started, but words failed .
The real reason—the way my pulse quickened this close to him, the way my heart seed to forget every lesson it had learned about moving on from him—wasn’t sothing I could say aloud.
Kieran turned the faucet off and faced , drying his hands slowly. His eyes searched mine, and I couldn’t bring myself to et his gaze. “You’re tense.”
“I’m fine,” I said, too quickly.
He stepped closer. The space between us thinned to a breath. His voice was a low caress against my skin. “You’re not.”
I opened my mouth to protest, to tell him that I wasn’t cursing myself for inviting him to my ho, to deny that my body was having an inexplicable, maddening reaction to his presence.
But then he reached out, and his fingers brushed my wrist. “Sera—”
A zing of electricity, almost as painful as it was dizzying, shot through , and I stumbled backward, the plate in my hand slipped out of my grasp.
“Damn it—”
Before it could shatter, Kieran’s lightning-fast reflexes kicked in, and his hands shot out.
One caught the plate.
The other wrapped around my waist to steady .
For a suspended second, everything else fell away.
The hum of the refrigerator. The patter of the shower upstairs. The low wind outside the windows. It all faded until there was only him.
His hand was like a brand on my lower waist, burning a hole straight through . His skin was warm, his breath close. I could feel the faint tremor of restraint in the way he held himself still against .
My heart stuttered.
“Th-thanks,” I whispered, my voice thinner than air.
Kieran didn’t answer right away.
His dark gaze flicked from my eyes to my mouth, then back. The look in them was a slow, deliberate undoing—the kind that didn’t need words.
Unbidden—out of fucking nowhere—a shiver of need ran down my spine.
It was as if my body had separated from my mind, leaving all my reservations and inhibitions behind.
I leaned closer. Just a little. Just enough for my chest to brush against his. Enough for the warmth of his breath to ghost against my lips.
The familiar heat, the pulse of recognition—mate or no mate bond—still lived there. Under my skin, rushing through my veins, buried under layers of denial.
We were so close. All I had to do was tilt my chin up, and our lips would et. The kiss would be explosive, I knew. Terrifying in its intensity.
And gods help , I wanted it.
Why couldn’t I have it? What was stopping now from closing the hairbreadth distance between us and—
A door slamd upstairs, and it was like my senses snapped back into my body, and sharp panic drowned out all else.
I pushed Kieran away. Harder than I ant to.
He jerked back, his body hitting the edge of the counter with a muted thud. “Ow.”
My breath hitched. My pulse roared like a wild animal. “Kieran!” I stepped forward imdiately, my eyes wide. “I—I’m sorry, I didn’t an—”
He winced, one hand pressed against his chest. “It’s fine,” he grunted.
But it wasn’t. He wasn’t.
I frowned, taking in the pain that tightened his features. I knew I was getting stronger by the day, but that shove should not have hurt an Alpha, especially not one as powerful as Kieran Blackthorne.
“Kieran,” I said softly, hesitantly reaching out for him. “Is there sothing wrong?”
Sothing like panic flashed in his eyes, and he made to move away. But I caught his wrist, pulling it away from his chest.
He groaned again, and every alarm bell in my head rang in a frenzy.
Before I could wonder what the fuck I was doing, my hands were gripping the hem of his shirt.
His eyes widened. “Sera, don’t—”
I yanked his shirt up and gasped.
“What the hell?!”
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