Elara
Alaric’s silent presence in the doorway should’ve startled me, but instead, I found myself blinking at him through the haze of wine. He said absolutely nothing, just stood there, his broad frame shadowing the doorway, his face unreadable.
“Alaric?” I called out, furrowing my brow. “Are you alright?”
He didn’t answer—just continued to stand there, staring at me. I glanced down at the two wine bottles beside me, one empty and the other nearly empty, and wondered if he was silently judging me for drinking so much.
The bottle in my hand sloshed a little as I sighed and poured a glass for him.
“Sorry I raided your wine cabinet,” I slurred, holding the glass out toward him. “But it’s been a long week. I needed a drink. Or five. Have one with me?”
But as I held the
