Chapter 12 #2
My hand moves almost involuntarily to the curve where her neck meets her body, where the mating mark should be. The spot where my canines should pierce her skin, sealing our bond for eternity. Making it impossible for either of us ever to be with anyone else.
The urge to do it—to mark her right now, while she sleeps—is almost overwhelming.
My wolf surges forward, demanding I claim what’s ours. That I make our bond permanent before she can run from us. Before reality can tear us apart.
But I force myself to pull back.
Not like this. Not when she’s asleep and unaware. Not when she’s already terrified of what we’ve done.
The mating mark is sacred. Permanent. Once given, it can never be undone.
Plus, Violet deserves to have a choice in this, even if every instinct I have screams at me to eliminate any possibility of her walking away.
I slip out of bed silently and tuck the covers around her shoulders. She makes a small sound but doesn’t wake up, burrowing deeper into my pillow.
The shower is scalding hot, but I barely feel it. My mind is too busy racing through the mess we’ve created.
Last night changed everything.
I can no longer pretend I can protect her from a distance. My wolf won’t allow it. Even now, separated by a single wall and barely ten feet, he’s agitated. Pacing. Demanding I go back to her.
I lean my forehead against the tile and let the water pound against my shoulders.
What the hell am I supposed to do?
Tell her the truth. That we are fated mates. That the bond between us is real and unchangeable. Then, convince her to hide our relationship while I figure out how to deal with my father.
My jaw clenches. She’ll never agree to that. To sneaking around like criminals. Lying to everyone we know.
And then, there’s my father. It won’t matter that Violet and I share no blood. It won’t matter that our wolves recognize each other as mates. All that will matter to Alaric is that we’re family. Stepsiblings. What we did last night, what we are to each other…He’ll see it all as betrayal.
He’ll tear us apart. Force her to leave. Or worse—make Violet’s life so unbearable, she’ll want to leave on her own.
I slam my fist against the tile, welcoming the sharp pain that shoots up my arm.
There has to be another way. But I can’t see one.
I finish my shower and pull on a pair of sweatpants, leaving my top half bare. I look at my back in the mirror; the whip wounds are already healed, all those pink lines having faded to nothing. The perks of being a shifter.
The kitchen is quiet as I sip my coffee, staring out the window at the forest beyond the city limits. The pack will be waking soon. Life will go on as normal.
Except, nothing is normal anymore.
I take a long drink, letting the bitter heat ground me.
My wolf suddenly perks up, ears forward. Footsteps. Soft and hesitant.
I turn, and there she is.
Violet stands in the bedroom doorway wearing nothing but my shirt. It swallows her small frame, the hem hitting mid-thigh, the sleeves hanging past her fingertips. Her hair is a mess, her cheeks still flushed with sleep.
She has never looked more beautiful.
I set my coffee down and cross to her swiftly. My hands cup her face, tilting it up so she will meet my gaze.
“You should always wear my clothes,” I murmur.
She flushes, her eyes darting away. “Darius—”
I don’t let her finish. I lean down and give her a slow, sweet kiss, pouring everything I can’t say into the press of my lips against hers.
She melts into me with a soft sigh, her hands coming up to rest on my bare chest.
When I pull back, she’s looking at me with those wide, hazel eyes. Then, I notice something that makes me grin.
“You’re barefoot.”
She glances down as if just realizing it. “Oh. I—”
I don’t let her explain. I bend my knees and grab her under her arms, lifting her off the ground.
Her legs immediately hook around my waist, her arms circling my neck for balance.
I laugh low in my throat. “Who taught you to act like a little monkey?”
“Darius!” Her face goes scarlet. She buries it against my shoulder.
My heart aches at how adorable she is around me. How different from the guarded girl who keeps everyone else at arm’s length.
This version of Violet—soft and open and trusting—is mine alone.
I carry her to the kitchen and set her down on one of the stools at the island, making sure she’s steady before stepping back.
“You must be hungry,” I say, moving to the fridge. “I’ll cook for you.”
She’s quiet as I pull out bacon, eggs, bread, cheese. As I move around the kitchen, I can feel her eyes on me, tracking my every movement.
“Your wounds have healed.”
I glance at her over my shoulder, amused. “Yes. I told you they would.”
She bites her lip, her fingers plucking at the edge of the shirt—my shirt—nervously.
I turn back to the stove and crack eggs into a pan. The bacon sizzles beside them, filling the air with the scent of breakfast.
But I find the silence between us heavy and uncomfortable. I look over my shoulder again and see her staring at the counter, her fingers plucking at a loose thread on the cloth napkin I put out for her. Over and over. A nervous habit that I recognize.
“Whatever you’re thinking,” I say firmly, “stop.”
Her fingers go still. She looks up at me, and the sincerity in her eyes makes my chest tight.
“What happens now?” she asks quietly.
I turn the burner down and face her fully, leaning back against the counter. “What do you mean?”
“Last night. We—” Violet swallows hard. “And now it’s morning and I’m wearing your shirt and you’re making me breakfast and I don’t”—she takes a shaky breath—“I don’t know what this is. What we’re doing.”
My jaw clenches. “You regret it.”
“No!” The word bursts out of her, fast and desperate. “No, not—” She stops and sighs heavily. “Not exactly regret, but…”
I round the island in two strides, and my hands land on her shoulders to spin her toward me.
“But what?”
The words that leave her mouth feel like claws dragging across my chest. “This can’t happen again.”
My grip tightens. “Violet—”
“It doesn’t matter if we’re not related by blood.” Her voice is tense. “The pack will never accept something like this. And my mother will kill me. Literally.”
She tries to slide off the stool, and panic floods through me.
No. She can’t leave. Not like this.
I move before I can think, picking her up and setting her on the counter. I plant myself between her legs, forcing them apart to accommodate my body.
“You’re not going anywhere.” My voice drops to a low, commanding tone. “This stays between us. Nobody has to know.”
“We’ll be caught.” Her voice wavers. “Eventually, someone will—”
“No.” I lean closer, my hands grasping the counter on either side of her hips. “I’ll make sure of it. I know you feel this, too, Violet. Don’t pretend you don’t.”
She stares at me, and for a moment, I see the want in her eyes. The same desperate need that’s tearing me apart.
Then, she looks away. “It doesn’t matter what I feel.”
“It’s the only thing that matters.”
“No.” She pushes at my chest, and reluctantly, I step back. Just enough for her to slide off the counter. “You still said those things about me to your father. You tried to keep me from working in your department. And I won’t forget that.”
The shift in topic catches me off guard. She’s deflecting. Using old wounds to rebuild the walls between us.
“I said those things because I didn’t want you to work there,” I say cautiously.
Her head snaps back, eyes flashing with anger. “Why? Because I’m not good enough?”
My next words burst out before I can think of better ones. “Because you’ve always been sick, Violet! You’ve always been frail.”
“Excuse me?” Her hands are on her hips now.
“I didn’t want to put additional stress on you.” I’m already in too deep, so I push ahead. “And now that you’re an adult, pack members will treat you differently because you can’t shift. Because you’re physically weak. I was trying to protect you.”
She stares at me, and something cold settles in her expression. Something sharp and knowing that makes my wolf whine in distress.
“You’re lying.”
“Violet—”
“No.” She walks away from me, toward the bedroom. “I hate liars.”
Terror claws at my chest. “You’re right!” I explode desperately.
She freezes, her back to me.
“You’re right. I am lying.” I run both hands through my hair, feeling like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff. “The truth is that I didn’t want to be near you.”
She turns slowly, and there’s a new look in her eyes—maybe one of hurt, but it’s buried beneath wariness. “Why?”
Tell her. Tell her the truth. That you’re mates. That you’re bound together.
But I can’t. I can’t tell her that. Not when she doesn’t seem to know. Not when I can’t even honor our…
“Because of this.” I gesture between us, frustration bleeding into every word.
“Because I didn’t trust myself around you.
” I force myself to meet her eyes. “I did think the others might harass you, yes. But that wasn’t the main reason.
The main reason was that I couldn’t…” I stop, my jaw clenching.
How do I explain this without revealing everything?
“I couldn’t be near you without wanting you. ”
She wraps her arms around her stomach, and I hate that slightly defensive, self-protective posture. I wait, my heart pounding, but for several seconds, she just stares at me with those hazel eyes.
When she finds her voice, it is quiet. “Well, you were right.” She looks away, her expression closing off. “This can’t happen again. Not ever.”
She begins walking toward the bedroom once more, and I hurry forward to block her path. My body fills the hallway, not letting her pass.
The words tear out of me. “Nobody has to find out. This can just be for us. Our time.”
My wolf is in a frenzy, demanding I do something—anything—to keep her here.
She shakes her head. “I don’t understand why you would risk your position as heir just to sleep with me.” The laugh that escapes her is bitter, self-deprecating. “I can’t be that good in bed. Or did you just like the thrill of sleeping with your stepsister?”
Rage surges through me, hot and violent. My hand covers her mouth before I even register moving. “That’s not what this was.”
The snarl in my voice is feral and possessive.
She turns her head away, dislodging my hand.
I stand there, feeling utterly helpless. My fingers hover near her face because I want to touch her, need to touch her, but I don’t know if I should.
All I do know is that I can’t tell her we’re fated mates. If I do, how much will it hurt her when she realizes I’m choosing my pack and my status over her? That I’ll have to hide what she is to me, deny the bond between us, because my father will never accept it?
I can’t bear to do that to her.
“I care about you, Violet,” I finally force out, the words feeling inadequate. “Deeply.”
She steps away from me, swallowing hard. “Fine. That’s all fine.” Her voice is controlled now. “But what we did last night is never going to happen again.”
I begin to speak, but she shakes her head, cutting me off. “If your father ever found out, I would be the one to bear the consequences. Everyone—including my own mother—would try to protect you. Nobody will protect me.”
The truth of it hits me hard because she’s absolutely right.
She adds quietly, “I have to protect myself.”
The vulnerability in those words twists my insides.
“I’ll see myself out.”
She moves past me, and this time, I don’t stop her. I can’t. Because what she said is true, and I have no answer for it.
She goes into my bedroom, and I stare at the door as it closes, a sharp pain piercing my chest. I hear her moving around. The rustle of fabric. Soft footsteps.
The bond between us pulls tight, my wolf howling to go after her, to burst through that door, to throw her over my shoulder and carry her back to my bed where she belongs.
But I force myself to stay where I am. Rooted to the floor by the weight of everything unsaid between us.
Minutes crawl by. Each second an eternity.
When she finally opens the door again, she’s wearing my sweatpants, rolled at the waist. She won’t look at me as she walks past to pick up her ruined clothes from the couch before heading for the front door. Every step she takes feels like she’s ripping the life force out of my chest.
I follow her. My hand flexes at my side, fighting the urge to grab her.
“Will you at least let me drive you home?” The question comes out rough, almost pleading.
She doesn’t turn around. “I have my car.”
The finality in her voice makes my wolf whine in distress.
“Okay,” I reply, the word barely audible.
She opens the door, and I watch her take three steps down the corridor to the elevator. Three steps that may as well be three miles.
I wait until the elevator comes and takes her away before I close my door. The sound echoes through my empty apartment, loud and final.
I lean my forehead against the door, trying to control my wolf. He is going insane, snarling and clawing, demanding I go after her.
Mate. Our mate is leaving. Stop her. Claim her. Make her stay.
“I can’t,” I growl out loud.
Because she’s right. About all of it.
I push away from the door and stare into the kitchen, lost. The bacon on the stove is burning. I should turn it off. Should clean up the breakfast I started making for her.
But I can’t move. I just stand there, feeling the incomplete bond between us stretch and pull as she distances herself from me.
This is what I wanted, isn’t it? For her to leave. For us to pretend last night never happened. For things to go back to the way they were.
Except, nothing can go back. Not now. Not after I’ve had her. Not after I know what it feels like to be inside her, to hear her cry out my name, to feel her come apart in my arms.
Everything smells like her now. My couch. My sheets. My shirt that she wore. Her scent is embedded in every surface, and it’s driving me mad.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, shattering the silence. I pull it out and see a message from my father: Zion has returned from his mission. Family dinner tonight.
I stare at the screen, the words blurring together. My brother, Zion. He’s back from wherever father sent him this time.
I don’t want to see him. I don’t want to see anyone right now. However, I respond: I’ll be there.
I take the burnt bacon off the stove and close my eyes, grief settling within me. I fucked up. I should never have let her in. I should never have slept with her.
But when it comes to Violet, I forget everything, including my damn pride.