Fiona’s POV
I didn’t want to admit it, but jealousy was slowly eating at me like a viral disease that had no cure. With every moment I thought about Xira and how freely she touched Derek—how her arm slid around his neck like some teenage couple and how she spoke to him without fear of consequences like everyone else—I felt something coil painfully in my chest.
It wasn’t supposed to bother me. Derek and I weren’t in love; we were only bound by a contract, a mutual understanding built on goals and necessity.
Yet seeing her so close to him, so unashamedly bold while he stood there allowing it, made me realize that perhaps I wasn’t as indifferent as I presumed to be.
Then, I remembered the marks on his neck that suddenly appeared at dinner time the other day, and I didn’t need a prophet
