I watch as he touches my belly without doing anything to stop him.
It's not that I think it's pointless to tell him to stop anymore. I could. It's that my body's on fire. It missed him. Our bond missed him. I get a whiff of his hair and my teeth clench automatically. And his hands, they're touching my belly delicately. My insides are melting. I want to touch him back, touch him as tenderly as he's touching me. Lovingly. But I can't do that because the person standing in front of me isn't my love.
It's someone posing as him.
"You're showing," he comments. The sound of his voice makes my heart beat faster. I close my eyes and pray for the feeling to subside. I try to think of what I just saw—him feeding off of Emilia. Her blood on his lips. But I can't think of him with disgust, not now. Not here. It's like there's a veil over my eyes and the frustrating part is that I want to see. I do see.
