Midnight's growl rumbled deep from his chest, vibrating through the broken silence of the corridor. The air around him was heavy, thick with the metallic scent of blood and a murderous aura. His fur was soaked with blood, his claws glistening wet. He moved closer, each step slow, deliberate, his breath hot against the cold air.
Seraphina froze where she knelt. Her body trembled, but not from fear, but from exhaustion, and disbelief. She could see the faint wounds that Gwen's magic had made across his body, yet he looked unbothered by the pain, as though he no longer felt it.
"Midnight," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
He prowled nearer, lowering his head until his nose brushed against her arm. His growl deepened, rough and guttural, and for a moment, she thought he might attack her too. Her heart raced wildly in her chest.
Then, without warning, his tongue brushed across her bleeding hands.
