Victor's jaw was set so tight she half expected to hear his teeth crack. He'd never looked quite this what, frazzled? Angry? No, not angry. Hungry, he was hungry. Not for the cake, not for the lollipop, not for the arguments circling through the next room. For her, exclusively.
He moved with purpose, and she ended up square in the middle of the bed, her legs dangling over the side, Victor didn't touch her at first, just hovered there, breathing like he'd sprinted a mile uphill. His gaze ran over her, top to bottom and back, cataloguing damage, wanting.
She opened her mouth to ask him if he was okay, but her tongue got stuck on the roof of her mouth. She could feel his heat from where he stood, that static, burning presence that always made her toes curl inside her socks.
He knelt in front of her, hands bracing against the mattress on either side of her thighs, he leaned in.
"You're not listening it's going to get you hurt," he said, voice low, voice rough, voice for her.
