POV: Jasmine
"Alaric..." I hesitated, watching his fingers flex against his thighs. "I just—maybe you should talk to someone. It's not... I mean, you hold back until I'm about to collapse. You never let yourself just... feel. Like you're punishing yourself."
His jaw twitched.
"And if I am?" he asked, his voice deceptively calm.
My pulse kicked up. "Then you shouldn't be. Why should you?"
Alaric let out a slow, humorless chuckle, avoiding my question. "You think I need fixing, huh?"
I swallowed hard. "I think you need help."
Silence.
Perhaps the therapy he had gotten a few years ago wasn't enough.
Maybe he hadn't entirely healed yet. He fucked like one who was angry at the world, even though in all of that he still made sure I derived the utmost pleasure there was to derive.
He tilted his head slightly, eyes locked on mine, but I refused to look away.
One second, he was sitting, and the next, he was in the pool, the water barely making a sound as his body dropped in it.
