"So that's Priscilla." Alaric's voice cut through the shadows, low and ice-cold, sending a shiver down Salviana's spine. He stepped forward, his form emerging slowly from the darkened doorway, and Salviana spun around with a startled gasp.
"Alaric—" she began, but he raised a hand, silencing her with a single, severe look.
"No," he said firmly. She paled, her heart pounding.
Had he overheard? Did he know everything?
The last thing she wanted was for him to be angry—she'd seen his temper, and she feared what he might do.
He closed the distance between them, his gaze sharp and calculating. Gently, he lifted her face in his cool palm, his touch unexpectedly tender against her stinging cheek.
Salviana's breath hitched as his thumb brushed over the reddened skin, tracing it with delicate care.
Though his eyes held an eerie calm, she could feel an electric fury simmering beneath his controlled exterior, charging the air between them.
