"What do you think I am?" He asked quietly. "Who I am?"
The question made her breath catch.
She turned to study his profile in the firelight, noting the way shadows carved his features into something almost otherworldly.
Handsome. Dangerous.
"Y-You..."
Her heart skipped a beat.
"You're... making me nervous."
The admission slipped out before she could stop it. She turned away quickly, ears flushing red.
Alaric smirked.
"Am I?"
The leather sofa creaking beneath his weight as he shifted closer, close enough that she could smell soap.
"How so?"
Her pulse jumped at her throat. She pressed her lips together.
"You've been different lately, less... controlled."
"I'm always controlled."
Then he moved his hand, thumb brushing the back of her neck, barely contact.
She flinched at the touch, then immediately hated herself for the reaction.
"Don't." The word came out sharper than intended.
"Don't what?" But his hand stilled, hovering just above her nape.
