He just looks at me.
My chin lifts higher. “Why did you mark me?”
He doesn’t answer.
I make myself look him in the eye. “Do you understand what that means?”
“I—”
I cut him off abruptly. “No, I don’t think you do. I don’t think you understand what you took.” My voice is rising, and I cannot stop it. “Yesterday, you told me you were sending me back to Moonvale. You have done so much trying to stay away from me, and now, you mark me? What is wrong with you?”
He is silent.
The tears are coming. I feel them building. I clench my jaw, forcing them back. “Did you do it because you didn’t want me to be with Ethan?”
His back jerks him upright, shock on his face. “No!”
“Then why?”
He doesn’t answer.
“I didn’t want this.” My free hand moves on its own, slicing the air between us. “Why do you keep ruining everything? I had finally given up on you, and you went and did this. Am I supposed to be grateful that you finally accepted me?”
He won’t speak.
“I hate you.” The words come out ragged. “I have never despised anybody more. You humiliated me at every turn, you threw another woman in my face, and the minute you found out I was capable of moving on from you, you took the most important decision I would ever make, and you made it for me, in your bed, without asking me!”
He stays silent.
“Say something.”
He doesn’t.
“Say something, damn you!”
I have leaned forward on the bed without realizing it. The sheet at my chest slips. I don’t register it for a beat. Then, the cool air on my skin tells me, and I look down. I make a frustrated sound and try to cover myself with the hand that isn’t already fisted in the fabric.
Lucas gets up out of the chair and crosses the small space between us in two strides. He goes to his knees in front of me. His hands are very gentle as he takes the sheet from my fingers. Without taking his gaze off my face, he pulls it back up over my chest. He holds it there for a moment to be sure it won’t slide again, and then he tucks it under my hand so I can hold it myself.
He doesn’t linger. He doesn’t look down. He keeps his eyes on mine. The whole gesture takes less than five seconds, and then he starts to head back to his chair.
My free hand shoots out and catches his wrist. I don’t know why. My body does it before my brain can stop it. The sheet is still gathered in my other fist.
He freezes. He looks down at my hand and then back at my face.
My chest is still heaving from anger. My wolf is rumbling at the touch of his skin under my fingers. Two contrasting emotions.
The tears spill over. I cannot keep them in any longer.
“Now what?” My voice sounds weak. “You don’t want me. I don’t want you.”
He flinches. It’s small, but I see it.
“What am I supposed to do now? Where am I supposed to go?”
He doesn’t return to his chair. He turns fully toward me, lowering himself to his knees so we’re more at eye level. His expression is now vulnerable in a way I have never before been allowed to see.
“I didn’t mean to mark you.”