Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Selene
The walk back to my quarters feels endless.
Seth carries me like I weigh nothing, his arms steady despite the way his heart is pounding against my side.
I want to protest, to demand he put me down, but my feet throb with every slight movement, and the exhaustion weighing on me makes resistance impossible.
The fated mate bond thrums between us, alive and insistent in a way it hasn’t been for two weeks.
It’s disorienting, like suddenly remembering how to breathe after forgetting you need air.
Every point where his body touches mine sends sparks racing under my skin, and I hate it.
I hate that my body responds to him when my mind knows better.
We finally reach my door, and he pushes it open with his shoulder, carrying me inside without asking permission. He sets me down on the edge of my bed with surprising gentleness, and I immediately try to scoot away from him.
“Stay still,” he orders.
“I’m fine,” I snap back, but the words sound weak even to my own ears. “I can heal myself.”
I press my hands to my feet, reaching for my healing magic.
The familiar warmth should flow through my palms, knitting torn flesh and soothing pain, but nothing happens.
My magic sputters weakly, barely a flicker, before dying completely.
The exhaustion from whatever happened tonight has drained me completely.
“It’s not working,” I mutter, frustration making my voice gruff.
“Because you’re exhausted.” Seth disappears into my bathroom and comes back with a dampened cloth. “Let me—”
“No.” I pull my feet back protectively. “I’ll go to the healers’ wing—”
“And explain to them why you were roaming outside at night?” His eyebrow arches as he grills me. “How you ended up with cuts all over your feet? What you were doing wandering through the forest in your nightdress?”
My mouth opens, then closes. He’s right. Going to another healer means questions I can’t answer, and whispers will spread through the palace by morning. The prospect of that humiliation makes my cheeks burn.
“That’s what I thought.” He kneels in front of me, reaching for my foot. “Now stop being difficult.”
I want to argue, to push him away, but I’m too tired, and he has made a good point. I let him capture my ankle in his large hand, hating how even that simple touch sends heat racing up my leg. My wolf stirs eagerly at the contact, and I want to scream at her to stop it.
Seth works in silence, his touch surprisingly gentle as he cleans the cuts and scrapes covering my soles. Each brush of the cloth stings, but I bite my tongue, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing me complain. His fingers are warm and steady, and I hate how safe they make me feel.
“This is going to hurt,” he warns before pressing the cloth against a particularly deep gash.
I hiss through my teeth, my hands fisting in the blanket beneath me. “I’m fine.”
“You keep saying that.” He doesn’t look up from his work, his jaw tight with concentration. “I’m starting to think you don’t know what ‘fine’ actually means.”
“And I’m starting to think you don’t understand the words ‘leave me alone.’”
His mouth twitches—not quite a smile, but close. It vanishes almost immediately as he reaches for the bandages I keep in my bedside drawer. His movements are too sure, like he knows exactly where everything is.
“Have you been snooping in my room?” I question him suspiciously.
“No.” He starts wrapping my foot with practiced efficiency. “But all the healer quarters are laid out the same way. Medical supplies are always in the same drawer.”
That makes sense, but it doesn’t explain why he’s being so careful, so thorough. His hands move with a gentleness that contradicts everything I know about Seth Rowan—the man who hurled cruel words at me like weapons, who made me feel small and worthless.
“There.” He ties off the bandage and moves to my other foot, repeating the process. “They should heal in a few hours, once you’ve rested.”
I pull my foot back the moment he’s done, tucking both legs under me despite the protest from my injuries. “You should go now.”
He sits back on his heels, still kneeling in front of me, his expression unreadable. “We need to talk.”
“No, we don’t.” I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly very aware of how thin and damp my nightdress is. “There’s nothing to say.”
“Selene—”
“I said, ‘go.’” The words come out flat and final, with no room for negotiation. “Please, just leave.”
Instead, he stands and moves to the small table where a bottle of wine sits—a gift from Zane, still unopened. My chest tightens as Seth picks it up, examining the label with deliberate slowness.
“Put that down,” I demand.
He ignores me, opens the bottle, and finds two glasses. He pours a generous amount into each. “You look like you could use a drink.”
“That was from Zane. We were supposed to drink it together.”
A dark look, both possessive and irritated, flashes across Seth’s face. “Too bad.”
The deliberate provocation in those two words makes my blood boil. He’s being petty, I realize. Deliberately trying to get under my skin because—why? Because he can? Because he wants to see me react?
He holds out one of the glasses toward me, and I turn my head away, refusing to even look at it.
“Fine.” His voice carries a confrontational edge now, almost daring. “Then I’ll just drink your precious Zane’s entire bottle on my own.”
My hand shoots out before I can stop it, snatching the glass from him. I drain it in one long swallow, the wine burning down my throat and settling hot in my empty stomach. When I slam the glass down on the bedside table, Seth is watching me with clear amusement.
Heat immediately blooms across my skin—a warmth that spreads from my chest outward, making my cheeks flush and my pulse quicken.
I tell myself it’s just the alcohol on an empty stomach, nothing more.
I shift uncomfortably on the bed, trying to ignore the sudden sensitivity of my skin against the damp fabric of my nightdress.
“Didn’t know you had such a temper,” he says, refilling my glass.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” The words come out breathier than I thought they would, and I hate it. The heat is intensifying, settling low in my belly, making me hyperaware of Seth’s presence in my room. “And it’s none of your business.”
He settles into the chair across from my bed, too comfortable, too at ease in my space. “Since we’re fated mates, you are very much my business.”
I stare at him in disbelief, rage rising in my chest—along with other things I refuse to acknowledge. The warmth continues spreading through my body, making every nerve ending feel electric. I press my thighs together, trying to ignore the growing ache.
“Are you serious right now?” My voice rises despite my attempts to control it.
“Completely.”
“Two weeks ago, you could barely stand to be in the same room as me.” This heat is making my thoughts fuzzy.
“You made it crystal clear that I was beneath you, that I was too weak, too pathetic to ever be worthy of someone like you. And now, what? You’re singing a different tune because someone else wants me? ”
His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek. “That’s not—”
“That’s exactly what this is.” I lean toward him, ignoring both the protest from my injured feet and the way the movement makes the heat spike.
“You don’t want me, Seth. You never did.
But you can’t handle the idea of Zane wanting me.
So, what is this? Some kind of possessive, territorial posturing?
Do you want to keep me on a shelf somewhere, unwanted but not allowed to be with anyone else? ”
He moves so fast I barely see it—one moment he’s in the chair, the next his hand is gripping my jaw, forcing me to meet his blazing eyes.
“That’s the second time you’ve accused me of that,” he growls, his face inches from mine. “And I don’t like your attitude.”
My wolf practically whimpers at his touch, at his nearness, responding to the dangerous edge in his voice with eager submission. The heat in my body intensifies at the contact, making my breath catch. But I refuse to back down. Not this time.
“What are you going to do about it?” I sneer, though my voice wavers slightly. “I don’t care about you, Seth. I don’t care about this stupid bond. Whatever you think gives you the right to barge into my life and act like you own me, you’re wrong.”
His grip tightens slightly, not painful but firm. “Is that so?”
“Yes.” The word comes out less steadily than I want, my body betraying me with the racing of my heart. “In fact, now that I can feel this bond again, I think it’s time to end this charade, once and for all.”
I see understanding dawn in his eyes, followed immediately by what I think is panic. He knows what I’m about to say. He knows what words are forming on my tongue.
“I, Selene—”
His mouth captures mine before I can finish, swallowing the rejection before it can take shape. His hand is still gripping my jaw, holding me in place as his lips move against mine with desperate intensity.
I should push him away. I should bite him, fight him, do anything except what I’m actually doing—which is kissing him back with equal desperation.
My hands fist in his shirt, pulling him closer even as my mind screams that this is wrong, that he’s manipulating me, that I should hate him for everything he has done.
But, oh god, the bond. It sings between us like a living thing, every point of contact sending electricity racing through my veins.
My wolf howls with joy, reveling in Seth’s taste, his scent, the solid warmth of his body.
It’s overwhelming in a way that nothing with Zane ever was.
The heat in my body blazes hotter, turning into an ache that demands more, demands everything.