The journey back to the Silver Ravens Guild stretched over four days, and for Alaric, it was a blissful reprieve from the chaos of wyverns, herbs, and dark cultivators. Whatever the Phantom Assembly was up to, he shoved those thoughts deep into the back of his mind. 'I'll deal with them later,' he thought lazily, his focus entirely consumed by the present—and, more specifically, by Rosalind.
She sat in front of him on their shared horse, her body nestled against his. The soft sway of her hips against him with every step of the horse was hypnotic, and Alaric wasn't shy about letting his hands roam.
"Alaric…" Rosalind's voice had that warning tone, but the way her body relaxed into his made it clear she wasn't really protesting.
"Hmm?" Alaric murmured innocently, his fingers tracing over the curve of her waist before wandering upward to her chest. "Just making sure you don't fall off, Rosie."
