Heartbeat [Alec Volturi]

Worthy

Alec's shoulders stood tall, two paces in front of me. I could step on the back of his shoe if I liked, not that doing so would make the halls any less tense. But his reaction would at least give me a glimpse into his frame of mind. Usually, if I zeroed in on the tiny details – a flinch of his brow or a flash of something more profound in his irises, I could get some idea of where his head was at. But he was entirely emotionless, present in the moment and, as such, impossible to predict.

He was a master at playing characters, something I continued to marvel at. Like an actor running lines for a show he's been performing all his life, in the same role, dedicated to his craft. So devoted that it consumes his life until it is no longer the character into him, but he, who becomes the character—melded into one with a thin veil of reality holding the line. Or he may already exist as the character, with no trace of who the actor was before he entered the masquerade.

The stoic character Alec was tasked with presenting to the world was never permanent. But it certainly clouded his mind, and an equal effect was demonstrated through his rational behaviours as well as in his rash actions. It was as much a part of him, as he was of it. Both equally intoxicating, as damaging as they were damaged by the world that had forced them to sacrifice everything they touched.

Alec chose his words deliberately. He weighed the possible effect of every word, how they paired together, the impression, and how it would further his goals. He was clever, quick-witted, and a massive pain in the ass. And I couldn't understand how I could be both angry and wanting to be near him at the same time.

And yet there was a prickling electricity at the tip of my fingers, from my thumb to my pinkie, drawn by an external force to see if he was still real. To grip the fabric of his satin vest, as dark as the shadows lurking in every corner of the old castle we were confined within. I wondered if I would still feel this same urge if his skin froze mine as it should if I knew that an icy shock would be guaranteed with every brush of our skin.

I stopped abruptly in the middle of the corridor. Alec hardly stopped with me, as if he reconsidered doing so, but he didn't turn around.

"It wasn't about you. Leaving was not about you."

"Not now, Saffiya."

After Aro's comment on my escape and Alec's private conversation with the kings, I had been expecting a lecture from the boy. A disciplinary hearing. Possibly starring Jane as a guest witness. "What about–"

"Later," Alec asserted again.

I clenched my jaw, mostly pissed at myself for trying to reassure him when he was the one being unreasonable. My hands went to my head, dragging my fingers through my hair, and his expression softened. His steps were quiet on the stone floor, and I lifted my chin to question his intentions. Alec's hand came into careful contact with the small of my back, eyes observing mine for any indication that I didn't want him to continue.

His hand slipped under my shirt and rested on the curve of my spine. Before my heart could even think to react, a light pressure brought me into his shoulder, fitting me in the crux of his chest. I leaned into his body, and the familiar exchange encouraged a shared exhale of relief for us both. Not that it erased the real-world events that were currently swallowing us whole. But there was something about the long period of separation when he left for a mission that made me feel just a little off. Nothing unmanageable. Just...a lack of comfort, I suppose.

Alec's thumb slid back and forth on my skin like ice skates, calling me from the depths of my mind. His lips brushed against my temple before he shifted us. "We are late."

"We're always late." Alec slipped his hand under mine, and though he tried to hide the briefest twitch at the corner of his mouth, I caught it. Maybe he wasn't as angry as I thought.