Soon they were at the property line, dusk just beginning to settle in vibrant hues across the sky.
She pulled her arm from his and turned to stand before him. The uncertainty he saw shining in her eyes cut him to the quick.
Unable to help himself, Soren took her dear face gentlybetween his paws and kissed the crown of her head. He stole one little nuzzle of her fragrant hair, trying to memorize every note of her scent.
“Good night, Miss Maeve,” he said, stepping back.
She gripped his wrist. “Will you not…?”
Running his thumbs over her cheeks, he said, “It’s late. I wouldn’t want to keep you.” Even though that’d never been an issue before.
He saw how struck she was by his denial when he’d never refused her before. Hehatedthe way her eyes widened and her mouth turned down. It was as though he could feel her heart’s disappointed pang in his own.
Soren didn’t want that. He never wanted her to look at him as she did now—confused, unhappy. It would be nothing to wipe it away, to pull her off the path and into his arms for another night of pleasure.
But the situation would be the same in the morning, the sweetness of the night faded away.
He had to be strong. He had to think. This had to run its course, whatever its outcome.
For his own preservation, he turned away from her and her sad eyes. He thought he heard his name catch in her throat, but then he was running, running fast, and blindly leaping into the sky.
Coward, coward, coward, beat inside his head with every flap of his wings as he flew higher and farther from her.Coward.
22
Why did that feel like goodbye?The thought scared Maeve, and she couldn’t shake it as she strode blindly to the house.
Short as it’d been, tonight had been tenser than their first evening walk, when he’d first declared he would never take a mate. Maeve wrapped her arms around herself although it wasn’t cold, troubled by the way he’d felt so…distant. He hadn’t reached for her except to bestow that kiss. He’d barely spoken to or looked at her.
Her stomach knotted tightly. What had she done? What had changed from yesterday, when he smiled so sweetly at her and held her to him like she was something precious?
The difference in his manner left her aching. What had happened?
She hated that she couldn’t stop a little voice from echoing in her head,They always get bored eventually.
But not Soren. Soren was different. She was Soren’s…
She was supposed to be his fated mate. That was supposed tomeansomething.
He doesn’t want a mate.
Her stomach flipped, and Maeve began to feel sick.
Stop it,she commanded herself. It was just one awkward walk. He was allowed to be off some days or have other tasks to do. Things would be different tomorrow, she was sure. Better.
The niggling worries wouldn’t leave her, though, and by the time Maeve walked into the manor house, she was starting to truly panic. Maeve had broken off enough relationships, and been left too, to know the signs. She couldn’t help turning everything over in her mind, searching for some small clue.
So preoccupied was she, Maeve didn’t notice at first the strange greeting waiting for her in the kitchen.
“Hello, Maeve.”
She startled, looking up in surprise to find her mother and Sorcha there—not so strange—as well as…Maeve frowned…Imogen Ahearn.
“Visiting with Balar and Imogen,”he’d said.
Coming to a halt in the middle of the short hallway between the kitchen and front parlor, Maeve stood in that arched threshold, her suspicion rising as she looked at each woman.
She didn’t know what this was, but she wanted no part of it. Hackles up, she wanted to flee to her room, to sort out her jumbled thoughts and feelings by herself. But as Sorcha stepped forward, ushering her further into the kitchen, to a seat at the table already laid with a single meal and goblet, Maeve understood it’d be a while yet before she’d reach sanctuary.
