Vesper's grip on Blazar's wrist tightened, his fingers searing against her skin like brands. The usual playful glint in his crimson eyes had vanished, replaced by something darker, sharper.
His irises, now deepened to a shade closer to maroon, locked onto Kaelric with an intensity that sent an unfamiliar shiver down Blazar's spine.
"What do you want from him?" Vesper demanded, his voice low, rough at the edges—almost protective.
Kaelric didn't so much as blink. "That," he said, his voice colder than winter frost, "is none of your business."
Silence stretched between them.
Blazar's pulse hammered in her throat. Vesper was never serious. Not like this. Not with that look in his eyes, like he was seconds away from tearing through the space between them with teeth and claws.
Kaelric didn't flinch. He merely tilted his head, his glacial gaze sliding from Vesper to Blazar. "Come."
A command. Not a request.
