Jealousy

>>Draegon

The moment I saw her—my wife—throw her arms around Ariston, everything around me blurred. Aelin clinging to Ariston, her delicate hands gripping his arm, and the way she buried her face in his chest—it was a scene so wrong, so infuriating, I could hardly breathe. 

My blood roared in my ears, and I clenched my fists tightly, feeling my nails dig into my palms as I watched him awkwardly place his hands on her shoulders, asking if she was alright.

She seems to rely on him a lot. Even when I was under Ruoxy's spell and all I could do was watch them, she would get scared and cling to him. And the most I could do then was glare at them.

She raised her face to look at him, her wide, timid eyes filled with something I couldn't quite place—fear? Embarrassment? Whatever it was, it didn't matter. Because in that moment, the only thing I could think of was how much I wanted to rip him apart.

Mine.