Seraphina's Point Of View
I blinked once.
Then twice.
Then I actually scoffed. "Need you?" I said, incredulous, the disbelief spilling out before I could filter it. "Psst. In your dreams." My lips curled despite myself. "I would rather confess to a monk than do that."
Silence.
A dangerous one.
Because instead of irritation… instead of offense, Azriel's smirk only widened. Of course it did. It spread slowly, lazily, like he was savoring every second of my defiance.
"I'll hold you up on that, baby," he murmured.
My head snapped toward him.
Baby?
Oh, absolutely not.
The glare I sent him could've melted steel. "Do not call me that," I snapped instantly. But it didn't land the way it should have. Because instead of backing off… he leaned in.
Not physically.
But in presence. In attention. In that quiet, predatory focus that always made it feel like the air shifted a degree closer to heat.
