I glance down at myself, as if I can somehow see the change. “I know.”
“It’s a good thing,” Anne says gently. “It means your wolf is coming into her own.”
Or it means whatever was suppressing her is finally wearing off.
Anne rises from her chair, smoothing down her shirt. “I guess I should head to work.”
Panic flares. “Wait. You need to shower first.”
She blinks. “What?”
“Shower. Please.” The mug hits the coffee table harder than I intended. “If Darius catches even a whiff of my scent on you, he’ll know I’m here.”
Her eyes open wide with understanding. “Right. Of course. He has already called me twice demanding to know if I know where you are. He and Ethan have also been hounding Sienna.”
Shame burns hot. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have put you in this position.”
“Don’t apologize.” Anne places a hand on my shoulder as she walks past me. “That’s what friends are for.”
She squeezes once before disappearing into the bathroom. The water turns on; I hear the sounds of the shower running. She takes her time, making sure every trace of my scent is washed away.
When she emerges, her hair is damp, and she smells like her usual lavender body wash. None of my scent lingers on her.
Anne quickly grabs her bag and keys. She pauses at the door, looking back at me with concern.
“Will you be okay?”
I force a smile. “I’ll be fine. Go to work.”
She hesitates for another moment before nodding. “I’ll try to arrange that meeting with your mother today.”
“Thank you.”
The door clicks shut, leaving me alone with the silence and my wolf’s unhappiness. The mug sits abandoned on the coffee table. I curl into a ball on the couch.
For two days, I’ve held it together. Kept my spine straight and my voice steady. Told myself I made the right choice. That walking away from Darius was the only option.
But now, alone in Anne’s quiet apartment, the walls I’ve built start to crumble.
Pain slams into me—not metaphorical pain, physical pain. It radiates from deep in my chest, spreading through my limbs until tremors shake my entire frame. I press my fist against my sternum, but the ache just keeps growing.
He was only taking care of me because of the mate bond. Not because he cared about me. Not because he wanted me for who I am.
It was biology. Just wolf instinct. He wasn’t choosing me.
Six years. He knew for six years and never said a word.
The sob rips free before I can contain it. Then another. Another.
My face burrows into the couch cushions, muffling the sound, but it’s like a dam breaking. Once it starts, there’s no stopping the flood.
I was falling for him. Despite everything. Despite the cruel things he’d said to his father about me, despite how long he’d kept me at a distance. When he touched me, when he looked at me with those dark eyes that saw too much, a change happened inside me.
It wasn’t just my wolf responding. It was me. Violet. The girl who spent her entire life unwanted and unloved.
He made me feel cared for. Protected. Like I mattered.
And since my wolf was still practically nonexistent, those feelings were real. Mine, not some bond-induced attraction I couldn’t control.
