How could Alaric forget the voice of the man who was haunting Aveline?
He carefully shifted Aveline from his arms onto the pillow.
Aveline stirred, her brows knitting. A soft protest slipped past her lips, a faint murmur as she reached instinctively for the warmth she had lost. Her hand brushed the empty space beside her.
Alaric froze, his chest tightening at the sight. He eased back down, letting her fingers curl into his shirt until her breathing steadied again. She clung unconsciously, as though even in dreams she sought his presence.
Damien's threats could wait. Alaric gently pressed his thumbs in circular motions on her temple to smooth her brows, ignoring the voice from the phone.
When he placed his phone to his ear, "Damien Ashford," he hissed through his teeth, without raising his voice.
A cold scoff answered him. [Alaric Lancaster, you think you got her? Just wait and watch…]
The line went dead.
