I blink.
She’s not crying. Not begging. Not even curious. There’s none of the pain I’m feeling on her side. She looks at me like I’m just another problem to deal with. Like I’m just something mildly annoying.
I remember her from six months ago.
She was different that night — quiet, hesitant. But even then, there was something about her… something that made me pause. Something that curled around my instincts and told me not to strike. I could’ve ordered her execution. Could’ve had her tossed in a dungeon and forgotten. But I didn’t. I remember saying the wordexile, but it felt like it came from somewhere else — like someone was speaking through me, pulling the strings of my mouth while I watched from behind my own eyes.
At the same time, something inside me slammed shut.
Every time I tried to think about her afterward — to question why her presence rattled me, why I kept feeling her everywhere — my thoughts slipped away like smoke. I couldn’t hold onto them. Couldn’t hold onto her. It was like my mind refused to let her in… and I couldn’t ask why.
“I could have killed you. The lycan was feral,” I murmur, getting up slowly, pillow strategically placed. My voice is hoarse. Raw.
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, well. You didn’t. So congrats.”
“You don’t feel it?” I ask. My fingers twitch against the pillow. “The bond. It’s still there. You really are my mate.”
She shrugs, moving. “Nope. That sounds like a you problem. I solved mine.” She stands from the bed and starts pacing the room, scanning for an exit.
“I’m sorry,” I say, voice low, rough.
She freezes.
Her eyes snap to mine — sharp and cold enough to draw blood. I swallow hard. Fuck, I need her to understand. I need to make this right.
“I didn’t know you were my mate,” I say. “I couldn’t feel the bond.”
I pause, glancing down at the deep bruise across my chest. The skin is dark and aching, but it’s nothing compared to what’s clawing at my insides.
“I can feel it now,” I whisper.
She crosses her arms, one brow raised.
“Too bad. So sad.” Her tone is flat. Unbothered. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Yes, it does!” My head snaps up. “When the High Priestess of the Moon tested me for the Mate Spark — before what should’ve been my first shift — there was nothing. No trace. I thought I didn’t have a mate. I thought I wasn’t meant for one. And I couldn’t feel my bond to you. Not until now. Someone clearly tampered with it. With me. And what you did—”
I cross my arms across my chest. “What you did is illegal. Severing a bond like that — it's forbidden. It’s the law.”
She immediately looks to the ceiling, hands fisted, lips pressed tightly like she can barely restrain herself from cursing me out.
“For the love of — can you please put on some pants? Or a sheet? Or something? Stop flashing your ding-a-ling at me!”
She makes an aggressive little flicking motion toward me, as if she’s trying to ward off an angry spirit.
My…ding-a-ling?
I blink. “Seriously?”
Shifters don’t care about nudity. It’s not a thing. We’re running around naked all the time.
I head toward the closet anyway, speaking over my shoulder as I move. “Did you know about my lycan?”
“Draxis,” she says flatly.
I pause. “What?”
“You mean Draxis.” Her tone is calm, matter-of-fact. “That’s his name, isn’t it? And by the way, he needs training. He’s very stubborn.”
