As soon as Maddox released Hadrian's collar, his gold eyes moved to Guinevere.
He leaned forward, chest heaving. The kind of breathing that belongs to a man who has sprinted across a ballroom.
Unbeknownst to her, he had, in fact, just sprinted across a ballroom.
TESTOSTERONE INCIDENT #1: Use Your Words, Commander
His jaw was locked. His pupils were blown wide enough that the gold around them looked thin, almost gone, eaten alive by something darker. His hand flexed at his side.
Guinevere had never seen him look like this. Confused. Furious. Irritated.
"Are you alright?" Her voice was quiet, meant for only him to hear.
Zero strategy behind it. The question of a woman who saw a man in visible distress and responded the way she responded to everything: with kindness she couldn't turn off even when it would have been smarter to.
He seemed to get more angry by the question. She wasn't sure.
"Commander," she added in case that was it.
