“And it’s not like you and I can be together anyway, so stop it.” Her voice rises, frustration bleeding through. “Calm down.”
“I can’t calm down.”
“Why not?” She pushes me away. “Why does this matter so much to you?”
I finally snap.
I grab her shoulders and slam her back against the tree. Not to hurt her. Never to hurt her. But out of pure exasperation, pure desperation, the need to make her understand.
“Because you’re mine!” My throat burns as I say it. “You’re mine, Violet. My fated mate.”
She goes completely still. The forest around us seems to hold its breath.
My head drops to her shoulder, my grip on her loosening. When I speak again, the words come out as a whisper against her skin.
“You’re my fated mate.”
Chapter Nineteen
Violet
His words replay in my head, over and over, a broken record I can’t stop. I stare at Darius, my mouth dry, my heart pounding so hard that I think it might shatter my ribs.
“I’m your—” I choke, then swallow hard. “You’re my…fated mate?”
“Yes.”
The single word is heavy, resigned, like he’s admitting to a crime. I feel a stirring inside me, that weak flicker of awareness I’ve been struggling to understand, and suddenly, it all makes sense. The pull. The need. The way my body responds to him. How I’m helpless to resist.
I look down at my dress then back up at him. The pieces are falling into place too fast, cutting me as they land.
“Is that why you’ve been doing all this?” My voice shakes. “The apartment, all this over-the-top shopping, the—” I stop before I say it out loud. The desperate fucking when we’re alone and no one will catch us.
“Yes.”
The truth hits like a punch to the gut. I wrap my arms tightly around myself, suddenly cold despite the humid night air.
“You’re mine,” he continues, and I hear the possession in his voice, raw and primal. “I have every right to take care of you. Every right to provide for your needs.”
“How long?” The question comes out barely above a whisper. “How long have you known?”
He doesn’t answer. He just stands there, his jaw tight, his eyes burning into mine.
The silence stretches too long. Something hot and sharp twists in my chest.
“How long have you known, Darius?” I demand again, louder this time.
Still nothing.
I shove him away from me, hard. He doesn’t resist, just lets me push him, and that makes it worse somehow.
“Tell me!” I shout, my hands reaching out to grab his suit jacket and shake him. “How long?”
His throat works as he swallows. “Since your eighteenth birthday.”
The world tilts. I stumble backward, his words echoing in my skull. Eighteen. I’m twenty-four now. Six years. Six fucking years.
“All this time.” My hands tremble. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
