“It wasn’t like that.” But he can’t quite meet my eyes when he says it.
“Look at me.” I grab his chin, forcing his gaze to mine. “Look me in the eyes and tell me that’s not exactly what you wanted. Tell me you weren’t planning to keep me in that penthouse while you eventually took some other, more appropriate female as your mate. Some woman your father would approve of. Someone the pack would want to see by your side.”
He pulls my hand down from his face. “We can still be together, Violet. We don’t have to…”
“Together?” The word explodes out of me. “Together how, exactly? What would I be to you? The woman you fuck in the shadows before going home to the one who’ll wear your mark and have your children?”
“No!” He lunges for me, frantic now. “That’s not what I mean.”
“That’s exactly what you mean.” I slap his handsaway. “Because you’re not willing to give up being alpha. And you’re not willing to stand in front of the pack and claim me.”
“I just need more time. I’ll find a way to—”
“To what? Make me acceptable?” Fire is burning through the numbness. “There is no making this acceptable. Not to your father. Not to the pack. We’re stepsiblings. The only way we can be together is if you give up everything for me. And we both know you’re not going to do that.”
“The pack needs me.” His voice breaks on the words. “If Zion becomes alpha—”
“I know.” And I do. I understand pack politics. I understand duty and responsibility and sacrifice. “I know the pack needs you. I know Zion would be a disaster. I know all of it, Darius. But knowing doesn’t make it hurt less.”
“Violet, we can make this work—”
The slap cracks through the night air, and his head snaps to the side. I see the shock registering on his face, the red mark blooming on his cheek.
I laugh, and it comes out jagged and wrong.
“How do we make this work?” I ask, my voice rising. “You come over to fuck your dirty little secret? And then go back home to your socially acceptable mate and children?”
“Violet, that’s not—”
“I get the scraps of your affection? I become the other woman?”
“No. I would never—”
“It’s one thing not to want to publicly accept me. It’s another thing entirely to think so little of me that you believe I could only ever be a whore in your life.”
He flinches like I’ve struck him again.
“Is that really what you think of me?” I ask, more quietly now. “That I’d be content to wait in the wings while you build a life with someone else? That I’d settle for stolen moments and midnight visits?”
“I don’t think that.” His voice is raw. “I don’t think of you that way at all.”
I reach up and unclasp the emerald necklace from around my neck. I let it fall into my palm, heavy and cold with implication. The metal is warm from my skin, and the stones catch the moonlight.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting rid of you.” I throw the necklace at his feet. It hits the ground with a soft clink.
The ruby earrings are next. I yank them out, not caring that I’m probably tearing my earlobes in the process. I throw them at him. One hits his chest before falling to the grass.
“Violet, stop.”
“Why?” I reach for the diamond bracelet, but I struggle with the clasp. “These were gifts, right? Tokens of your affection?”
“Yes.”
“Wrong.” I finally get the bracelet off and hold it up between us. “They weren’t gifts. They were payments. You were purchasing access to my body, paying to ease your guilt about lying to me, buying me off to keep me happy and compliant in my little cage.”
“That’s not true.”
