SERAPHINA’S POV
The next morning, the villa seemed too bright, too cheery for how heavy my body still felt.
The sun streamed in golden slants across the dining hall, glinting off silver cutlery and porcelain plates—and one conspicuously empty chair.
Kieran’s.
His absence should have been a relief—after last night’s reckless brush with temptation, the last thing I needed was to meet his eyes over toast and tea—but instead it left a hollow weight inside me.
And when breakfast was over, and he still hadn’t shown up. I couldn’t resist anymore, so I asked one of the Omegas where he was.
She bowed her head and said he’d spent the entire night at the training grounds.
That information filled the hollowness with something that made me queasy as I imagined Kieran slaving away on the training grounds.
No bed, no sleep—just blades, sweat, and aching muscles.
A punishment, maybe, or a way to exorcise whatever pull had nearly unraveled us in the kitchen.
