Seraphina's POV
"When you die, you're taking whatever's left of my heart with you."
Lucien's words hung in the air between us, raw and honest and terrifying.
Before I could respond, he kissed me again.
This time was different. Not desperate and wild like the first kiss. This one was slower, deeper, like he was trying to memorize the taste of me. His hand cradled the back of my head, fingers tangled in my hair. His other hand pressed against the small of my back, holding me against him.
I'd never been kissed like this. Like I mattered. Like I was precious.
The blood bond between us roared to life—not the locked, cold connection from before, but wide open and burning. His emotions poured into me:
Want. So much want it made me dizzy.
Fear. Absolute terror of what he was feeling.
Grief. Still there, always there, a wound that never healed.
And underneath it all—hope. Fragile and new and terrifying.
