The second I stepped inside Alaric’s house, the air felt cooler. Not uncomfortable, just different—like walking into a place where the sun hadn’t touched in a long time. No warm bodies, no warm blood, nothing living enough to leave heat lingering in the air.
He moved around like this was all normal, like bringing me here was no big deal. Meanwhile, I couldn’t unclench my arms from around myself.
Then he opened the fridge, and my stomach flipped. A blood bag. He didn’t even hesitate—just tore the seal and set it down like it was a soda.
“I’d offer you something,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at me, “but I don’t know what you like to eat.”
My throat went dry. “I’m… not hungry.”
The way he looked at me made it obvious he didn’t believe a word of it.
“You haven’t eaten anything si
