Her words devastate me. She thinks that’s all she is to me: a convenient release. A temporary fling that means nothing beyond physical satisfaction.
I let go of her shoulder and sit back on my heels. Shock renders me momentarily speechless.
She takes advantage of my silence to throw off the blankets and climb out of bed. She stumbles out of the bedroom, and I follow her, watching as she crosses to the living room, grabs her ruined pants off the floor, and clutches them to her chest.
“What if I prove it to you?” I find myself saying.
She stops in her tracks. Then, she lets out a heavy, exhausted sigh, turning to look at me.
“Why bother?” She shakes her head. “What will happen if I do believe you?” She walks over to me, still clutching her ruined pants. As she looks at me, misery takes over her expression. “What are you trying to do, Darius?”
I look down at her. At this woman who has no idea what she means to me. Who thinks she’s nothing when she is everything.
“I just want you to be happy.”
She laughs at that. The sound is soft and sorrowful and completely devoid of humor.
“I’m happy when you leave me alone,” she says matter-of-factly. “When you don’t put me in danger of being further ostracized by the pack.” She tosses the pants aside and folds her arms over her chest. “I may be the Alpha’s stepdaughter, but I have no status in our pack. No worth. No future.” She gestures at me, holding out her hand in the space between us. “And look at you. One day, you will be the leader of the pack. You will have a mate. You will have children. You will be a symbol of everything we all aspire to be.”
She steps closer. Her fingers reach up and pat my cheek with condescending gentleness.
“And I will always be nothing.” Her smile is sad and knowing. “You expect me to believe you’d throw your future away over someone like me? That you’d choose me over your pack? Your position? Your father?” Her hand drops away. “No, you won’t. I already told you. The day it comes to light that you’re lusting after your stepsister, I will be torn apart.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “And you won’t help me because you’ll be too busy protecting yourself.”
The words drive into my chest like knives, each one finding a target and twisting.
“That’s not true.” My voice comes out hoarse, strangled.
She gives me a soft, devastating smile. “It is, and you know it.” She walks past me, toward her bedroom door. “Go home, Darius. I’m not that good of a lay for you to ruin both our lives over it.”
She disappears into her room, and I watch as she closes the door. The lock clicks into place with a finality that makes my wolf howl in protest.
Still wearing nothing but a towel, I stand there for ten minutes. Maybe longer. I’ve lost track of time.
My heart feels unbearably heavy. Like someone reached into my chest and wrapped their fist around it, squeezing until Ican’t breathe.
Finally, I force myself to move. My legs feel unsteady as I gather my clothes from where they’re scattered across her bathroom and living room floors. After pulling them on, I leave quietly.
The next morning,I can’t focus on the spreadsheet in front of me. The numbers blur together until they’re meaningless, and I find myself staring out the glass wall of my office for the third time in as many minutes.
She’s out there. Right now. Sitting at her desk, pretending nothing ever happened.
My jaw clenches as I remember the way she looked at me before closing her bedroom door. The stoic, impassive smile that cut me deeper than any blade. The resignation in her voice when she told me to leave.
“I’m not that good of a lay for you to ruin both our lives over it.”
The statement still hurts. Still makes pain and desperation rise in my throat. Because she genuinely believes that’s all she is to me. A convenient outlet for a physical need. A temporary and meaningless affair.
I force my attention back to the computer screen, but it’s useless. My wolf is restless, pacing beneath my skin. Demanding I go to her. Claim her properly where everyone can see.
But I can’t. Not when it would destroy her.
Movement catches my eye through the glass wall. Violet shifts in her chair, reaching for a file. Her movements are stiff, careful. Like she’s sore.
Heat floods through me at the memory of her body beneath mine. The sounds she made. The way she shattered in my arms.
She glances up. Our eyes meet through the glass for a split second before she looks away, color flooding her cheeks.
This is torture.
