SERAPHINA’S POV
Lydia, bless her heart, quickly arranged new clothes for me that fit.
I was deeply grateful for that. And deeply ashamed of the instinct that rose in me when she asked for Kieran’s clothes so she could launder and return them to him.
It wasn’t rational. It wasn’t dignified. It was visceral, primitive, and embarrassingly similar to a rabid squirrel guarding its hoard for the winter.
Mine.
The force of my reaction startled me. It was a struggle to school my expression, arms tightening around the jacket as I shook my head and said through clenched teeth, "You don't need to worry about that, thank you."
Alina stirred at the back of my mind, amused and understanding, as if she felt it too—that feral, possessive tug that had nothing to do with logic and everything to do with newly awakened instinct.
If Lydia sensed it, she was polite enough to hide her reaction behind a soft smile as she bid me goodnight.
