"What do you think Asher and Violet are up to right now?" Alaric asked no one in particular, his expression distant as he stared out the window, the cocoa mug untouched in his hand.
"Fucking, obviously," Roman replied, leaning over to stick his tongue into Alaric's cup and lap at the drink like a dog.
"Dude, what the fuck!" Alaric recoiled, pure disgust written across his face.
"I licked it. It's mine now." Roman showed no remorse as he snatched the mug and chugged it down. When he drained the last drop, he let out a deep, satisfied burp.
"Thanks, Momma Griffin," he greeted cheerfully just as Griffin walked in, an apron tied around his waist. "That was divine."
With Asher and Violet gone, Roman had been restless. Nothing—not even the company of his own pack—could soothe the strange ache in his chest caused by Violet's absence. So, without thinking much of it, he found his feet dragging him to East House.
