"While we were still in the Maldives," I replied.
Alaric ran a hand through his hair, his expression darkening before he muttered a quiet, "Fuck."
His eyes closed briefly as if trying to control himself. Then, he turned his gaze back to me, pinning me under its intensity.
"Why did you go on a date with him?" His tone was eerily calm, his fingers still threading through my hair, but the edge beneath his words made my breath hitch. "You didn't care to tell me about it. Hm?"
The way he physically controls his anger needs to be studied.
His anger was quiet. Measured. Controlled.
And that was the most dangerous kind.
"You've been really busy lately, A. Your mood that day—when Luna Jorja told me about him—was too sour. I couldn't bring myself to anger you more…" I explained, searching his face, but there was not even a crack in his expression. He just stared blankly at me.
