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“I heard enough last night.”

I swallow, forcing myself not to back down, even though part of me wants to. His voice carries a terrifying finality. His decision is made and nothing I say will change it, but I can’t accept that.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” His jaw flexes, the only sign that my words have any impact at all, but his expression doesn’t soften. If anything, it grows colder.

“Intent does not change the outcome.”

Something in me twists at that, at how cleanly he says it, how easily he reduces everything. “So that’s it then?” I demand, anger finally breaking through the hurt. “You’re just going to come here when you need to feed and ignore me the rest of the time? Treat me like a feeder?”

He says nothing.

“If you don’t want to talk, if you don’t want anything from me except . . .”

He turns to face me fully, but I almost wish he hadn’t, because the look in his eyes makes my breath catch for all the wrong reasons. “Except what?” he growls, his voice taking on a far more sinister tone.

“I just wanted to keep him alive!”

“Well congratulations, you did it. He’s alive.”

“If I had told you about him from the beginning, you would have killed him!” I shake my head. “I just wanted to protect the people I care about. You would do the same.”

“You think I don’t want to kill him now? I should fucking kill him just for touching you!”

“The only reason you haven’t is because I would hate you for it!”

He crosses the room in two strides, and I have to force myself not to step back, even as his presence fills every available inch of air between us, and the bond screams with his proximity. He stops close enough that I have to tilt my head back to hold his gaze.

“You want to know what’s keeping him alive?” he snarls. “It isn’t fear of your hatred.”

“Then what?”

His eyes drop to my throat, to the marks he just left there, and something shifts in his expression. “Because you are mine,” he says, “Him being here doesn’t fucking change that!”

“Only if I don’t reject you,” I say angrily.

“Then do it,” he snaps.

I blink. “What?”

His hand moves, gripping my jaw and forcing my face up toward his, his fingers digging into my cheeks.

“Reject me,” he urges. “Say the words. Tell me you don’t want this bond. Tell me you don’t want me, and I will let you walk out of this room and go back to him without interference.”

My breath stutters because this is not what I expected.

This is far worse.

“You don’t mean that,” I say, trying to steady my voice, and his grip tightens slightly.

“Say it,” he presses, his gaze locked on mine. “Say you reject me, Alessia.”

My heart beats frantically. The words are there, stuck in my throat. This is what I wanted, isn’t it? This is what Arlo wants. This is what makes everything uncomplicated again.

“I—”

My throat tightens like the words are strangling me.

His eyes darken.