This isn’t the girl I remember.
The Violet who left six years ago was quiet. Timid. Afraid of her own shadow. She would never have climbed into my lap drunk and demanded answers. Would never have looked at me with this kind of fire in her eyes.
This Violet has been hardened by circumstances. By whatever she endured while she was away. By years of being, as she put it, unloved and unwanted.
She may be physically weaker than full shifters, but she’s not weak.
My wolf purrs deep in my chest, pleased and proud. This is our mate. Strong in ways that have nothing to do with claws or fangs.
She pulls my face close to hers, her grip on my tie aggressive.
“Who, Darius?” It sounds like she’s mocking me. Pushing. Waiting for me to say no so she can prove herself right. “Is it you? Do you love me?”
I stare into her hazel eyes and feel completely, utterly helpless. Does she understand how tightly she has me wrapped around her finger? Does she realize that I would burn the world down if she asked me to?
I’m the proud alpha heir. Arrogant. Controlled. Feared. Yet, in front of her, I am nothing. Just a man helpless against the pull of his mate.
The words are torn from me, raw and honest and impossible to hold back. “What if I say yes?”
I watch shock bloom across her face, see her eyes widen as the alcohol haze clears for just a second. She stares at me like she doesn’t understand, like I’ve said something impossible.
And maybe I have.
Because I shouldn’t be saying this. Shouldn’t be letting myself say these words when she’s drunk and defenseless and sitting in my lap with her hand gripping my tie.
But I can’t take them back now.
She blinks. The shock transforms into wariness. She stiffens against me and moves to climb off my lap.
“Let me go.”
My hands tighten on her waist, keeping her exactly where she is. “Stay there.”
“I said, let me go, Darius.”
“You started this.”
Her eyes narrow with irritation. “I don’t want to play this game anymore.”
“Game?” The word makes hot, sharp anger flare inside me. I take her jaw in my hand, forcing her to look at me. My thumb traces the line of her cheekbone, and I pull her closer until our faces are only an inch apart. “This stopped being a game the minute you climbed into my bed.”
Her breath catches. For a heartbeat, I think she’s going to pull away. But then, her hand shoots up and fists in my hair, pulling hard enough that it hurts.
“I know you’re toying with me.”
I stare at her. This woman. My mate. So convinced that what I feel for her isn’t real, that I’m playing some cruel joke. My hands tighten on her waist, and frustration threatens to choke me.
“Do you reallynot feel it?”
The bond. The mate bond that has linked us since the day she turned eighteen. The connection that pulls me to her like gravity, that makes my wolf howl every time she’s near.
She narrows her eyes, her grip on my hair tightening. “Feel what?”
The question punches through me.
She doesn’t feel it. She has no idea what we are to each other. And I can’t tell her. Can’t explain why my entire world revolves around her when she should only be my stepsister.
I shake my head and pull her closer, until her chest presses against mine and I can feel her heart hammering. “Forget it. You asked me a question, and I gave you an answer.”
