Suddenly, Alaric's ears twitched, his predatory instincts catching the rhythmic, heavy tread of boots on the stone floor outside. The air in the room shifted as Damien's scent—sharp, angry, and metallic from the blood on his arm—neared the door.
"Damien is coming," Alaric announced.
Sofia's eyes went wide with pure, unadulterated terror. Her body began to shake so violently she nearly couldn't stand. The thought of Damien seeing her in this state—and the scent of Alaric's heat clinging to her skin—sent a jolt of ice through her veins.
"Don't be scared," Alaric whispered, but it was too late. Sofia turned and bolted toward the en-suite bathroom, her thick thighs brushing together as she scrambled inside and clicked the lock just as the main door swung open.
Damien stepped into the room, his face a mask of tension. He didn't say a word at first; he just stood there, his nostrils flaring as he took a deep, aggressive breath of the air.
