While Ethan stood there lost in thought, Alaric came back down. A clear red mark on his neck was slightly bleeding.
"Uncle." Ethan had already prepared tea. As he poured it, he calmly said, "Don't spoil women too much, or they'll grow sharp claws that are hard to control."
Alaric sat on the sofa, completely unbothered. Even in simple clothing, his natural air of authority—the kind born from power—was undeniable. His long fingers toyed gently with the porcelain cup, feeling the slight warmth against his pale skin.
Warm and smooth.
A playful smile appeared on his lips. "If you don't love your woman properly, why leave her for someone else to cherish?"
Half an hour later.
When Alaric went upstairs, he found Emerald on the terrace, speaking softly on the phone.
