My throat felt tight and my head was starting to pound. My veins roiled, rolling beneath my skin. I held my shift back but all I really wanted to do was tear the Nymph’s face off. Greniv was, “Mine.” The word whispered out of me on a desperate gasp.
The Nymph got one look at me and her eyes widened. Shooting up, she grabbed her wine, mumbled an apology, wings sprouting up, so not entirely Nymph but perhaps part Fae, Fairy, or such, and shot off.
Greniv stood, tossing his hands up, and cursed. When he turned to find me standing there desperately clutching my present, shaking like a leaf with rage as much as humiliation, fear, and confusion, he picked up the napkin falling off of his lap and cursed some more.
“What on earth did you do that for?” he burst out, his ire palpable.
“What did I do that for?” I sputtered. “Why are you having dinner with her?” It took everything I had in me not to sprout roots and tree out on him, I was so mad and feeling about to burst. I wanted to hide away from everyone and everything. I could barely believe my ears.
“You’re my mate,” I burst out, as he shouted, “Are you crazy, lady?”
“Am I what?” I nearly bellowed, as he gaped, garbling out, “I’m what?”
“How did you not know?” I fairly wailed.
His hand came to his face and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I am not, nor have I ever been, your mate, Aster.” He spoke in such a cold, detached manner, much like how detached my brain felt from the rest of me in this moment. I simply couldn’t believe what I was hearing, was still trying to comprehend what my eyes had just witnessed. “You are not my mate,” he said more firmly.
“But I-”
“No.” He sounded so resolute.
“You can’t shun a mate. It doesn’t work that way. It will only hurt us both in the end.” My hand shot up and I reached out to him.
Greniv recoiled as if I was a Naga with a head full of snakes snapping at him. Greniv’s skin was green, his body roiling with the beginnings of his shift. “I tried being nice about all of this,” he began, “but I can see now I erred in allowing your infatuation to go unchecked. I thought you might-”
“Infatuation?! You thought I might what?” I burst out, my eyes burning as he shattered my heart into a million tiny pieces. “You thought I might wake up one day, decide you're not my one true mate, and just- just… just give you up? Surely you know what happens to denied true mates?”
“I am not, nor have I ever been, or would I ever wish to be, your mate!” he shouted at me. His fist slammed down on the table, breaking the glass and sending his dinner crashing about with it.
“You’re a horrible being. I wish your words were true,” I whispered, spinning around and rushing back down the side of the house to escape the raging male. He was being ugly, and mean, and I didn’t quite like him in this moment. A sob caught in my throat, right as I tripped on a paver.
The plant went one way, and I went another. I flew forward so forcefully, my head slamming into a paver, I was stunned stupid for a solid minute.
“Oh good god, don’t go and die on me!”
A grunt left me as I sat up. One of my hands went to my head, coming away wet. “Argh.” A funny noise left me.
Warm hands went to touch me but I jumped, jerking away. I wasn’t expecting him to touch me.
“Are you alright?” His voice was softer, subdued.
My heart ached that he was too blinded to see. “I’m fine,” I lied, turning away when he would have leaned in to have a look at me. “I said I’m fine,” I snapped, as my eyes began to water.
“Wait here,” he ordered. “I’ll get you some ice and a towel to clean you up.”
“I don’t want or need your help,” I muttered low. My voice sounded as hollow as my heart felt.
“What day is it?” he said suddenly.
“Go look at a calendar,” I mumbled, closing my eyes as I curled my knees up, resting my head in my hand. “I’m leaving in a minute, don’t worry your pretty little head any,” I assured him.
I got a soft chuckle for that. “Bollocks on my head. You nearly smashed yours in on a paver.”
Scrubbing at my face, I cracked an eyelid enough to note his large feet. Still there. A part of me hated him. Well, it wanted to. It really, really wanted to. A piece of me felt like it had cracked and was slowly crumbling. That creature I called a heart moaned piteously.
“Is it… Is something hurting?” the wretch responsible for that broken creature’s state asked suddenly. He sounded worried, but I wasn’t about to be taken in by my own stupidity and the soft, broken lump limping away in my breast.
“I’m fine.” My voice was soft, defeated. Hurt laced my tone. I couldn’t help it. I was wounded.
