JASMINE.
I decided to prepare breakfast for us to eat. It was a weekend, and Alaric said he'd be home all day. I thought it wise to prepare his favorite meal.
"Breakfast is served," I said with a grin when he descended the stairs.
He was casually dressed in a way I hadn't seen him in a long time. Whenever he visited home, he was always formally dressed, as expected, as the Alpha.
Seeing him in his gray sweatpants and black singlet made me remember those days when he still lived with us back at home.
He looked gorgeous, I must say.
His short, black hair was neatly combed with just a few careless strands falling just above the crease of his brows.
His lick-worthy Adam's apple bobbed when his pink lips curved into a small smile.
"Mine," He called, and I couldn't help the warmth that spread across my cheeks at the way he called me – so intentional, so personal.
"You know you'll have to stop calling me that soon, right?" I teased, knowing he hated to hear that.
A small frown appeared on his face, but it disappeared instantly, replaced by a scoff, "Why?" He asked, taking a seat.
"You'll be getting married soon. How do you think June would feel when you call me that?" I served our meal and sat down to eat, but I noticed his countenance had turned sour. "Is everything okay?" I asked.
He leaned back in his seat, slowly fondling with the fork in his hand while staring into nothing. His grip on the fork tightened, and it got me... worried.
"Alaric?" I called cautiously, wondering if my jokes had gone too far.
Alaric had always had a history of anger. He had always had a little bit of a temper problem, but Dad helped him fix it with the help of therapy and support.
But that didn't mean the possibility of him snapping at any moment should be ruled out.
"Alaric?" I called a little firmer this time, and he slowly shifted his gaze toward me, "What's wrong?" My heart was already racing. He scared me.
"Nothing, Mine. Let's eat." He said so calmly that it scared me. His countenance returned to normal as if everything was fine.
I was tempted to insist on knowing what had just happened, but for the sake of peace and my sanity, I kept quiet, and we ate the rest of the meal quietly.
Every time I attempted to trust him again, he just... goes off and... and scares me.
Right now, sitting in the sitting room and watching a movie with him left me a bit uncomfortable. He didn't let me return to my room after breakfast. He insisted we watched a movie he'd been dying to watch together.
The movie pulled me in only half-heartedly as my thoughts swirled around the man sitting beside me.
I reluctantly sat back and watched with him while he placed my legs on his thighs, fondling and massaging them – something that used to seem normal to me once upon a time... But not anymore. I was as uncomfortable as fuck.
He was so engrossed in the movie that he seemed to have forgotten I was sitting right next to him. Sometimes, I wonder what goes on in his mind. He always seemed so detached and deep in thought.
I shifted slightly on the couch, my legs still draped over his thigh as he massaged my calves with firm, intentional motions. I wanted to be anywhere but here, trapped in this heated tension. Moreover, it was already 11:00 am. I had promised to call Cory and it was already time. He would be waiting for my call already.
Poor Cory.
I was able to talk with him last night, and we spoke at length. I couldn't deny the feelings blossoming between us already. It warmed my heart.
Cory was a great guy. He was everything I needed in a man. I impatiently awaited the day he would officially ask me to be his girlfriend. I won't hesitate to say yes.
My attention snapped back to the TV screen when the scene shifted — a couple locked in a slow, heated kiss. They were in a dimly lit bedroom, and I was certain what would happen next in the scene.
My breath caught in my throat, and every sweet thought about Cory came to a screeching halt, shoved into a corner by the heat flooding my cheeks. I chanced a glance at Alaric, hoping he wasn't paying attention. But he was.
In fact, the kind of attention he paid to the scene made my heart race.
It suddenly felt like we were intruding on something we weren't supposed to.
He watched like the man on the screen wasn't just some actor anymore — but him.
He watched like it was his hands stripping the woman down with his mouth claiming her throat.
Like the scene had stopped being fiction and had twisted into something far more intimate.
Like he wasn't just seeing what was happening but feeling it.