Seraphina was drunk. Gloriously, adorably, and completely drunk.
She stumbled down the marble hallway, one hand dragging across the wall for balance, the other clutching tightly onto Soren's arm. Her laughter echoed, high-pitched and unfiltered, like a melody gone wild.
"You—!" she pointed a dramatic finger at him, face flushed and grinning. "You're so… so pretty." She hiccupped. "Like stupid pretty."
Soren didn't answer at first. He just watched her, lips curled into the most entertained, wicked grin he'd worn all night. He was having the time of his life.
"You're like a walking painting. But not the serious kind. The flirty, annoying kind," she went on, wobbling with each step. "I bet you're like this with every girl you see. Just all smooth and sparkly."
He raised an eyebrow, still holding onto her arm just in case she decided to trip over her own feet. "Hmm. Is that so?"
"Yes!" she snapped, nodding vigorously—then stumbling a bit. "Yes, Your Highness. You—Soren—you're just so… you're just…" Her words tangled.
Then she suddenly leaned forward, dropping her head onto his chest like she couldn't carry it anymore. "…You're just…"
Her voice faded into a mutter. Her fingers gripped the fabric of his shirt like a child holding a blanket.
Soren blinked, then chuckled—low and quiet. "I'll carry you now, princess," he murmured.
"Don't you da—"
But she didn't finish. He hoisted her effortlessly over his shoulder, her long hair trailing down his back like ribbons. She gasped—half-dramatic, half-genuine.
"Nooo!" she whined, squirming weakly. "Put me down now… I'm fine… I can walk!"
He laughed under his breath. "Sure you can."
He reached her door, hand on the knob.
But then—"No! No, no, no, no, no!"
Soren paused, brow furrowed. He turned slightly, trying to glance over the shoulder where her body hung upside-down. "What now?"
"I don't wanna go to bed yet!" she wailed like a spoiled child. "You're no fun!"
Soren grinned wide. "You're out of your mind."
"I'm not!" she declared, struggling. "Lemme go!"
He chuckled again and loosened his hold, letting her slide down gently.
She blinked up at him, cheeks flushed, eyes wide and dazed.
Then suddenly—she turned and ran.
Soren blinked. "…You can't be serious."
He didn't chase her. He simply watched her clumsily sprint—arms flailing, almost tripping twice—until she ran right to his own door.
His smirk faltered. "Wait—"
She flung the door open and stumbled into his room.
Soren's eyes widened. "Seraphina."
Then, in a flash of vampiric speed, he vanished from the hallway and appeared inside the room behind her. The door shut with a heavy click.
⸻
Inside Soren's Room
She staggered across the room, eyes darting around as she marched like she had an investigation to conduct.
She yanked open the curtains. "Hmm…"
Then she turned to the wardrobe and flung it open. "Nope." She got on her knees and peeked under the bed. "Nothing under here but darkness and bad intentions…"
Soren leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "What exactly are you doing?"
She spun to him with exaggerated suspicion. "Looking for them."
He raised a brow. "Them?"
"The women!" she shouted, standing and gesturing dramatically. "I know you hide them here. You must. You're too pretty not to be guilty."
He pushed off the wall, stepping closer. "Seraphina…"
"No! Don't try to distract me with your pretty voice!" she warned, poking at his chest. "You're a danger to society!"
He laughed again, barely able to contain it.
"Stop laughing!" she huffed, marching toward him again.
This time, he didn't move quickly enough.
She reached him. And with one firm push to his chest—he fell backward onto the bed.
"Oof," he said with a grin, now flat on his back, legs still hanging off the edge.
And then…
She climbed on top of him.
Now straddling him, Seraphina grabbed his face with both hands and squeezed his cheeks like a mother scolding a toddler.
"You—" she narrowed her eyes, still holding his face. "Where are they? Where are the women?!"
Soren blinked, stunned for a second—then burst into real laughter.
It came from deep in his chest. Loud. Honest. Free. "Gods, you're unbelievable."
"You find this funny?!" she snapped, frowning with her lips poked out.
Then—she flicked his forehead.
"Ow—!" he yelped, still laughing.
She giggled uncontrollably.
She began to slide off him, but before she could fully escape, he grabbed her wrist and tugged.
With one motion, he pulled her forward until she collapsed on top of him, chest to chest.
Her breath caught.
Soren's laughter faded slowly into silence as their eyes met—close, too close. His fingers stayed tangled in the fabric of her sleeve. Her hands rested flat against his chest, and she could feel the steady beat of his heart through the thin shirt.
Her smile softened. Her eyes blinked slowly, her breath warm against his jaw. The tension shifted—laughter turning into something else.
Something quiet. Magnetic.
She blinked again. Then stared into his eyes, dazed… almost lost.
And she felt it. That burning again.
That damn flutter in her stomach that always came when he got this close. Her head was spinning. Whether from the wine or the heat—she couldn't tell.
Soren's expression was unreadable now.
He stared up at her.
No smirk.
No tease.
Just… quiet fire.
And neither of them moved.