The cardinal sin

The biggest downside to living with a woman who had large feline paws with retractable claws was that her every move was virtually silent. Creeping back down the curving tunnel from his shared bedchamber with a bottle of shampoo in his mouth, the Mendacium brute was surprised to find his violet queen waiting for him in the main chamber, blocking him from sneaking back out. Alastor froze in his tracks, holding gazes with the furious fae staring him down. If looks could kill, Alastor would have been struck dead in that very instant. He had seen Manea mad before, but the cold fury that seethed in her aqua eyes was unlike any he had seen from her in the past. She knew. He knew she knew. Relm's heat scent clung to him undeniably. He wouldn't disrespect her by attempting to deny anything when she had him dead to rights. But for all the anger he had seen in Manea before, this time he couldn't understand why. Was it because Relm was in heat? He knew the pink fae was taking contraceptives; she always had before, so the risk of him fathering pups with her was nonexistent. So why the seething rage?

Manea spoke through gritted teeth and cold revulsion to him, looking at him like he'd committed some vile act against her. He looked at her with an impassive expression, still not fully comprehending the depths of Manea's ire. "I was preoccupied," Alastor responded with a neutral voice, showing little reaction in the ways of shame or remorse. Alastor felt no remorse, after all. Why would he? He was just having fun with Relm, the same way she was screwing Irilyth on the regular. Nothing had changed about their arrangement. When Manea mentioned missing the dinner she had made them, Alastor furrowed his brows together in visible confusion. She had made them dinner? For what? Had he made some sort of arrangement with her that- Alastor's expression froze as dreaded realization dawned in his dark eyes. Now that his brain was cleared of its lust-added fog from Relm's pheromone-laced scent, he could remember clearly.

Their anniversary.

Before he could respond or do anything, Manea was already moving her way past him and out of their den, making a point to avoid touching him like he was some diseased leper. Alastor's black heart sunk low into his stomach, and for a moment the dire brute couldn't move he was so paralyzed with shock. When he got his senses about himself again, he turned on his heels and hurried after Manea, following hot on her heels back out into the bright morning light. "Manea, wait!" he called after her, his words slightly muffled from the bottle held in his jaws, black eyes squinting against the sunlight as he followed her down the mountain path. "Manea, it completely slipped my mind. I had other things going on that I needed to tend to. Let me make it up to you." Now that he realized why Manea was so furious at him, Alastor did feel a little twinge of guilt—still none for his actions, merely for the timing of when everything occurred.


"Alastor"