Dangerous Mood

Elion stood by the office window, shoulders stiff and his jaw clenched so hard it seemed as if it might crack under the pressure. His silver eyes were sharp and fiery, mirroring the storm raging inside him. He couldn't seem to sit still, pacing the room nonstop since he walked in.

Her words wouldn't leave his mind.

"It doesn't mean anything."

His fingers opened and closed at his sides, itching to grab something—or someone—to vent his frustration. The cool, collected Elion was gone, replaced by someone with a raw, simmering anger that was both alien and unnerving. He wasn't angry at Raelynn, he realized, but at himself. How had he let her words affect him so much? Why did they feel like daggers lodged into his chest?

He stopped pacing, gripping the edge of his desk until the wood groaned in protest. His grip was so tight it left marks on the surface, a sign of how hard he was trying to hold it together.