Page 82 of Werewolves and Witches AU

But my arms are held in place by my sides.

“I…” Rowan stutters. “Ye…”

He takes a large step back.

Cold air rushes over me like I feared that iced coffee would when we hit the pothole in the truck the other day.

Hazel eyes, almost golden, sear through me, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt so exposed.

Rowan takes another step back, then another, until—wordlessly—he retreats to the safety of the kitchen, and closes the door behind him.

Left alone, I suck my bottom lip between my teeth.

I hadn’t meant to… Okay, well, that’s not true. I had meant to, but I didn’t think that would be the reaction. The way he touches me, looks at me, speaks to me… I’d thought…

But then, I’d also thought Rowan was different. He isn’t.

What would he have said if he’d finished that sentence he started?

“Sorry, Milo, but yer too much.”

“It’s not ye, Milo, it’s me.”

“Yer not a Dog, Milo. Nor a wolf. We could never work.”

“Only for tonight, Milo.”

The last one gives me the full-body ick, and I stagger off the sofa cushion. Kissing Rowan was a mistake.

It’s like travelling back in time, but in a whole different way than the spell I just cast to talk with Sarah. The sting of this rejection reminds me of exactly how I felt when I discovered my scumbag ex cheating on me with Ray—cheating on Ray with me.

My fists clench by my sides, nails digging little crescents into my palms. I’d promised myself then, that never again would I prioritise someone who doesn’t also value me. I’m worth more than that.

I’m worthy of being someone’s equal—their partner—and one day, someone will see that value, and they will choose me.

They’ll stand up in front of the whole world and, with a proud smile, point right at me and say, “That one. I choose him. I want him. I love him.”

I cut my eyes to the closed kitchen door and narrow them. I refuse to settle for less than being someone’s first choice.

Fists still clenched, I take a deep breath in and hold it for a three-count.

Until then, I have a mission to complete. A really important one. One only a powerful warlock can achieve. A mission that I just travelled through the folds of time to craft. A spell so powerful it will spare the Romulan Bloodline and free the Lost Colony.

I stick out my tongue at the white-painted door and the stupid, giant, ginger wolf on the other side.

Determined, I nod to myself, then step out from among the artfully wonky cushions, the toppled crystal, and the disturbed salt and thyme, to snatch up the small shaving mirror.

My first order of business is to replace Mr Hairy’s precious mirror and get a shower. Showers are great for thinking. But also, I’m still wearing the alpha’s T-shirt, and he has no right to claim me in that way, when he won’t claim all of me in the way I deserve to be claimed.

Besides, I have perfectly fine T-shirts of my own.

Leaving everything where it is, I stomp up the stairs, and slam the bathroom door shut behind me for good measure.

Mirror in hand, I approach the holes in the wall from where I removed it earlier, but then realise that I left the screwdriver downstairs. I scrunch my eyes shut and lift my face to the ceiling. Idiot, Milo.

But I can’t exactly go back downstairs for it, not after my purposefully loud and dramatic exit which was in no way done with Ol’ Wolf Ears in mind.

With nowhere else to put the small mirror for now, I set it on the window ledge and strip. My shirt and jeans are gross, all of me feels gross, so I fight and tug and kick and pull until everything is inside out in a heaped pile on the floor.