The sun had risen when Rozarria woke up. She was disoriented, but she quickly recovered. She removed Alvaro's arm embracing her waist and got up. She stretched her limbs and ignored the soreness of her sex. Cracking some bones in her neck, she glanced at the man who was now awake and looking at her.
There was something wrong with the way he gazed at her. The kind smile he always portrayed was gone, and his eyes were narrowed with pupils constricted. It was . . . a little scary.
"What is it?" she asked.
". . ."
Alvaro didn't answer for a moment before he replied in a severe tone.
"Who's Allen?"
". . ."
Rozarria's heart beat faster and faster, and from the way he was looking at her, she couldn't help but be nervous.
Wait . . . why?
She regained her breathing and answered in her usual forlorn voice, "None of your business."
She then sauntered towards the exit of the tent, but Alvaro held her hand.
