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 something else to say. But an Alpha’s aura wasn’t something you pushed through, not when it was sitting that heavy in the air. His fingers slowly uncurled.
"Can we talk after?" His voice came 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 came through the door warm and unhurried. "You can come 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.
Something moved behind Voren’s eyes, a flicker, and gone. "Damon could walk in and not me?" The words came out quiet, which somehow 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 something 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 moment. Her hair was dripping slightly at the ends. Something 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 moment.
’She smells incredible.’
And just like that he was gone again. Blocked himself out before Voren could even form a response, the mental equivalent of someone dropping a lit match and walking away whistling. Voren’s jaw went tight. His back teeth pressed together.
"Just get dressed and come 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 something 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 came out a few minutes later in her own clothes, her hair still damp and hanging loose, and something about being back in her own things seemed 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 something there he couldn’t quite name.
’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.’
’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.’
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