"Michael..." Seraphina began.
Michael looked away, avoiding her gaze.
His fiery hair crackled with a heat that was only matched by the heat in his eyes.
Seraphina swallowed hard.
It was clear that he wasn't happy with Tristan's presence.
"Fine." He muttered as his flames dimmed.
"Michael, please."
Michael glared at her, the anger evident in his eyes.
"I know you're angry at Tristan, but please, let's not make a scene," she implored.
"I don't care if we make a scene," Michael hissed.
"Michael," Seraphina tried again. "I have a husband, remember? Also, he's my son now; someone I also care about, please."
"I'm no longer someone you care about," he spat back.
"Tristan is?"
Tristan facepalmed at the scenario playing out before him.
