The days after the deal felt like a distorted routine.
Alaric was there – every time a plate was placed before me.
He sat silently beside me, motionless as a statue.
His eyes rested heavily on me, and I knew he wouldn't leave until the last bite had disappeared.
And each time I pushed away the empty plate, I received it.
The kiss he had promised me.
It was a strange game: my body resisted, yet my heart craved the reward.
I hated it. I loved it.
And I knew he could feel it.
His presence became its own breath, a rhythm my body clung to.
I lived in a constant shift between hunger and heat, between control and surrender.
He rarely said much – only sometimes, when he thought I might break, he'd briefly place a hand on my shoulder.
No words. Just pressure. Warmth.
And each time, I sensed that the silence was more dangerous than anything he could say.
---
That afternoon, the sun was already low as I descended the steps in front of the school.
