Chapter 3
249words
"Alaric's coming to see me tonight. Sleep tight, don't wait up."
11 PM.
I lay in bed, eyes closed, breathing measured.
Alaric's phone vibrated. The bed shifted as he got up to answer.
"Yeah, I know. Be right there." His voice was barely a whisper.
Then came the soft sounds of changing clothes. The closet door opening and closing.
Through my eyelashes, I watched him slip into that deep blue coat—the one reserved for important occasions.
As he turned to leave, he paused by the bed, his gaze lingering on me.
I kept my breathing steady, not a muscle twitching.
After what felt like forever, he sighed—a soft, weary sound—and walked away.
My phone buzzed minutes later. Vivienne, sending photos.
Alaric at some exclusive West London club, lounging on a leather sofa surrounded by werewolf aristocracy.
Vivienne pressed against his side like she belonged there.
2 AM, Alaric came home.
He froze mid-way through removing his coat when he spotted me by the window.
"Thought I told you to get some sleep."
"Couldn't sleep. Waited up for you."
He crossed the room, took my hand in his, and frowned. "Christ, you're freezing. Don't do this again."
I don't know what happened at that club, but Alaric returned in a foul mood, though he tried to hide it.
But his eyes betrayed him—exhaustion and coldness etched into every feature.
He pulled me toward the bathroom. "Let's shower together. Need to warm you up."
