Alaric
"I'll take care of the plates," Nico said the second we finished eating, stacking them up and flashing me a playful wink.
I just chuckled, leaning back in my chair to watch him walk toward the kitchen sink.
Everything felt completely surreal. It felt like everything was moving so fast, and despite how long I had known Nico, a wave of genuine shyness washed over me.
This wasn't the first time he had cooked for me, nor was it the first time we were sharing a quiet, intimate night together, but this exact moment? I loved every single second of it. I couldn't believe this was actually my reality—that the man currently washing dishes in a fitted black shirt was my boyfriend.
The sheer intensity of the realization made a warm, heavy wave roll through my skin, and without even realizing it, my pheromones began to bleed softly into the cool air of the apartment.
I didn't even notice until the rich, undeniable scent of cedarwood hit my own nose.
Can he smell it?
