I glanced up at him. My chest tightened.
“No.” I looked away from him.
Just the sight of him made me feel ill with embarrassment.
“I was rude.” He tried again.
“You’re always rude to me, Abram. I’m used to it. You should’ve just let me go back to the coven and break this marriage spell.”
He moved so fast I didn’t have time to react. He leaned over me and glared like I had said the worst thing I possibly could to him. His eyes roamed over my face slowly like he had so many things he wanted to say.
“I’m sorry. It just caught me off guard to wake up like that.”
“And it was my fault.”
“No.” He shook his head. “I overreacted. I won’t do that again,” he promised.
I shrugged and looked down. My throat felt tight again.
“I don’t care, Abram,” I said, even though my chest said otherwise. “We won’t ever be in that position again. So just… drop it.”
He pulled back and stared at me. He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, then thought better of it. He looked at the kitchen and back to me.
“Are you hungry? I can dish up our—”
“No.”
I wished he would just leave me alone.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“You’re forgiven.”
His jaw tightened like he wanted to say something else. “I shouldn’t have said it like that.”
I stood up and grabbed the blanket off the rocking chair. He was watching me, but I didn’t give him a second glance. I needed to remember that this wasn’t ever going to be real. Abram had known me for hundreds of years, and he had never once given me the impression that he saw me as anything other than a pain in his ass.
So I would lie low. I would be cordial until the crowning, and I could leave. We wouldn't have to see each other again until he found his mate. We were roommates for now, nothing more. But this stupid crush on Abram had never gone away, no matter how much I tried.
I lay down, not wanting to change while he was standing there staring at me. I covered myself and closed my eyes.
He stood in his spot for too long before he walked to the kitchen. I heard him doing something with the food, but I didn’t look. My focus moved to the window where the bright white moon mocked me. How many nights had I prayed that Abram would want me back? How many nights had I convinced myself that he might care for me too, because he was the only man I ever had eyes for?
The moon had given me what I wanted… but in such a cruel way that it felt like punishment. I was Abram’s wife, but he couldn’t even stand my touch, didn’t want it. I was living in his home, only to be reminded that he built it for a wife that wasn’t me.
He didn’t want anything like that with me.
Chapter 8
Elowyn
The next morning, I sat on the couch reading. My fingers smoothed the edge of the page, but I hadn’t absorbed a single word in the last ten minutes. Normally, I would have tea going and wait excitedly for Abram to get up so I could see him, maybe try to have a conversation—but not today. The memory of last night sat heavy in my chest, like a bruise pressed too often.
Abram had come out a few minutes ago. I felt his heavy gaze on the back of my head, warm and deliberate, but I didn’t bother greeting him. I couldn’t bring myself to chase his attention again.
I realized I was the only one trying to have conversations and doing too much, always reaching, always hoping he’d meet me halfway. So, I read as he rummaged around the kitchen, pretending that the rustle of pages was more interesting than the sound of him moving around behind me.
A few minutes later, he walked into the living room and set down a cup of tea for me. The scent of it curled upward—bitter,earthy, not quite right. My heart gave a small, stupid flutter anyway.
