Page 175 of The Moonborn's Curse

"Then stop watching her like you're planning a siege."

"I'm watching her," Hagan said, jaw tight, "because if I don't, I'll break something."

They both fell into silence. Below, in the apartment across the courtyard, Seren rubbed her eyes and leaned her head back on the sofa cushion.

And even from here, it felt like heartbreak.

Hagan whispered, "She still looks so tired."

"She misses you," Veyr said simply.

"Not enough. But I've barely started," Hagan replied, voice like gravel.

Veyr didn't argue. He just looked at him for a long moment, then turned back down the hallway, muttering:

"'The greatest victory is that which requires no battle.'"

Hagan's hands curled into fists at his sides.

"One more quote, and I swear to the gods I'll shove that book so far up your arse you'll be quoting Sun Tzu every time you fart."

Veyr didn't even flinch. He simply turned his head, one brow arching. He opened his mouth to say something.

Hagan turned slowly, deadpan. "Don't test me, Veyr."

With a smug little smile, Veyr raised his hands in surrender and disappeared down the hall.

Hagan stayed by the window, jaw clenched, heart wrecked, eyes locked on the girl who was still everything.

And no closer to being his.

Yet.

Chapter 64

The scent of coffee pulled her out of the dreamplane before the light through the shutters did.

Seren yawned, her limbs tangled in the sheets, the soft cotton tank and faded shorts riding up. The faint ache between her legs from the dream still lingered, hot and mortifying. She didn't want to remember it. She really didn't.

But the way his hands had slid down her back—rough, reverent—his mouth on her throat, her collarbone, her—

She groaned and scrubbed her face, trying to erase the remnants of the dream and the feel of him. Of dream Hagan.

Throwing the blanket aside, she padded barefoot into the kitchenette, rubbing her bleary eyes. Her tank slipped off one shoulder. Her tiny sleep shorts barely covered her ass. She didn't care. It was too early to be decent.

Coffee. She needed coffee.

She walked in the general direction of the coffee machine, still not entirely awake.

And then—

Pine. Spice. Forest.

Her favourite scent, her doom.

She froze.

A beat later, warm arms wrapped around her from behind, solid and sure, and pulled her flush against a very hard, very warm chest.

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