Azriel
She was hopeless. Hopeless.
I stood at the edge of the bedroom, arms crossed, watching Selene flop dramatically onto the bed on top of her half-packed bag, like stuffing two shirts inside had drained the very life from her.
"You've packed, what, exactly?" I asked, fighting back a grin.
She groaned into the sheets, voice muffled. "Essentials."
I smirked, glancing at the sad excuse for a bag—two shirts, one boot, no pants, and a dagger she'd probably grabbed on instinct. "So you're planning to fight a twisted army in your underwear?"
She lifted her head just enough to glare at me, her hair a wild halo around her face. "Maybe you can protect my dignity then, my love."
Gods. She had to say that. My love. My heart damn near leapt out of my chest again.
I walked over, tugging her gently upright. "Fiery, if you keep calling me that, I'm gonna forget all about packing and we're never leaving this room."
Her cheeks flushed. Victory.
