Page 120 of UNAwere

‘He didn’t do anything.’

‘Stop talking.’ He draws away, letting me go, and heads for the door.

I almost fall back onto the bed, but I catch myself, breathing hard. My neck aches where he bit me, and I’m trembling.

‘You’re going to sit next to me tonight,’ Warner tells me, standing at the threshold. ‘And we’re going to make him understand that you’re mine.’

The tears finally slip down my cheeks when he’s gone. But I quickly wipe them away and take a deep breath. I can’t let this get to me. I can’t break.

So I steel myself and head out of the room, making my way through the house and out into the dining room. I hear voices when I get close, and Warner laughing, telling someone a joke. My gut clenches. I step inside, keeping my head down, but it doesn’t seem to matter.

Jude’s gaze is too heavy. Too instinctual.

I look up, and my heart breaks.

Time seems to still when our eyes meet. And I see him taking me in. The new dress. My hair. The red, welted bite on my neck. His nostrils flare. Rage swallows the softness his expression had held for me, and he stands on his side of the table.

But Hannah catches his arm and pulls him back down. She looks at me, her eyes on my throat, and murmurs something to her brother.

‘Sybil.’ Warner waves me over to the seat beside him. Opposite Jude.

There are others at the table with us. People I don’t recognise. People who ogle me and smirk, as if I’m nothing but the Luminaire girl who doesn’t know how to be a proper Were.

Warner’s hand snakes up my spine and grips the nape of my neck, his fingers playing with the hair there. He chats idly to the person sitting beside him, his fingers softly stroking.

I meet Jude’s gaze again.

He looks broken. He looks as if he’s already given up on us.

And maybe that’s the best thing.

I force back tears and train my eyes on the empty plate in front of me, trying not to recoil from the feeling of Warner’s touch.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

My primal side roars.

My mate is sitting across from me, and yet another man’s hands are on my skin.

I can’t do this.

I have to do this.

The food comes. My stomach recoils at the idea of eating, and when a plate of steak, mashed potatoes, and beans is set down under my nose, I almost gag. Warner grips the back of my neck before letting go and picking up his utensils to eat. The room is filled with idle chatter and the scrape of cutlery on porcelain.

I force myself to play the part. I act normal, wearing the mask I always used to wear in school. When I’d been told by everyone there that I was just a bit too much.

Bubbly Sybbie. Happy Sybbie. Approachable Sybbie. Non-confrontational Sybbie.

Quiet. Obedient. Pleasant.

I know it’s my fault that I’m here. I made this decision. I put my hand up. And I have to accept that.

Warner lets out a laugh, breaking me from my thoughts, and I snap my head up when his hand falls onto my thigh under the table. His fingers slip over the length of it until they’re bending towards the curve near my hip.

Someone sets a glass down a little too hard, and the entire table shakes, cutlery slamming against plates.

I look up as Jude stands again, my heart racing.