The growl that tears out of me is pure instinct. It rattles the room. Cracks through the walls.
Her finger jabs up under my nose so fast it stuns me.
“None of that,” she snaps. “Don’t you dare pull some alpha possessiveness bullshit on me. Answer the question — did you or did you not have sex with your little girlfriend while I was lost in Kunou Forest, trying to survive?”
The fury in her voice could level a kingdom.
“I didn’t,” I say, voice low. Steady. True.
She blinks.
“What?” she asks, the fight stalling just slightly behind her eyes.
“I didn’t sleep with anyone,” I say quietly. “Not once these past six months.”
I pause, jaw tightening. I can’t tell her the whole truth now, can I? It would bury me further. The words spill out of me though, the sound forced through my mouth before I can even process it.
“I tried, but I couldn’t… perform.”
What just happened? Why did I admit to that?
I look down — and of course, now there’s a very visible issue pressing against my pants.
I throw my hands up, exasperated. “Clearly that’s not a problem anymore!”
Her eyebrows shoot so high they practically touch her hairline.
And then she laughs.
It bursts out of her like sunlight breaking through thunderclouds — bright, sharp, and wild. It hits me like a blow to the chest. I’m frozen, caught in it. That sound. I could drown in it and never want air again.
She wipes an imaginary tear from the corner of her eye, smile still curling at the edges of her lips.
“Good,” she says, biting each word. “That’s great, actually. If your body only reacts to me now, you should go ahead and prepare for a very long, very sexless life.”
A low growl rumbles out of me, involuntary.
She doesn't flinch.
Her hand lands on her hip, her expression carved from stone.
“Maybe you didn’t screw her,” she says, voice like frostbite, “but you still kissed her. Touched her. Held her.”
She steps closer, just enough to twist the knife.
“And I felt it. Every. Single. Time.” Her voice dips, sharp and gutted. “Every kiss. Every touch. It tore through me. A betrayal to our bond. I can’t forget that pain.”
She flicks her hand like she’s brushing dust off her sleeve.
“You’re in love with her. So go. Be with her. I don’t care. Not anymore.”
Her voice gets softer, deadlier.
“I only cared because I wanted to survive. But I’ve already solved that problem.”
“No—” I start, but she cuts me off, looking around the room.
“Now,” she says, arms crossed tight across her chest, “I want to leave. Am I still exiled and supposed to go back to the forest, or am I free to move wherever I want?” Her voice is deceptively calm.
