Enzo's POV
Alaric didn't linger today during my therapy session, and though he said he had pressing matters to attend to, his absence left a hollow sort of space around me.
It felt strange not to have his steady gaze shadowing me from across the room, not to feel his presence like a protective wall at my back.
Jerome had been patient and kind as always, his voice calm and even as he coaxed me into speaking, but the whole time my thoughts drifted elsewhere.
I kept glancing at the door, half expecting Alaric to walk in, to fold his arms and watch me with that unreadable expression of his. Without him, the air felt thinner, colder.
After my session, I didn't hesitate I practically ran through the hallways until I reached his study.
I pushed the heavy door open and found him there, seated behind his massive oak desk, nose buried in a mountain of papers.
His long fingers moved across pages with a sharp elegance that didn't seem to fit the idea of a vampire lord.
