I blinked, dragged out of my inappropriate daze.
"Huh?" I looked up quickly, meeting her eyes.
She must’ve seen something filthy in my gaze because her face flushed a deep crimson.
She cleared her throat and crossed her arms over her chest, trying to shield herself from me. I could see her debating whether to bolt inside and grab a shawl.
I didn’t want her to cover up. But I needed to get a grip, fast.
"I’ve been in meetings with the Council of Elders all day," I said, blurting the first thing that came to mind. Fucking alcohol.
"Okay?" she raised a brow, clearly unimpressed. "And?"
I cleared my throat, forcing my eyes to stay on her face.
"One of the things we discussed was the ritual to sever our mating bond. It’s happening in three days, during the full moon. Be ready."
"That was fast," she said, clearly surprised, momentarily forgetting her state of undress.
"I told you I’d handle it," I replied curtly, harsher than I intended.
"So, is there anything I need to bring? For the ritual?"
"Nothing. Just come as you are. I’ll send you the location details before the day."
"Alright," she exhaled, sounding strangely light, almost relieved.
Something about her tone didn’t sit right with me. She was suspiciously... eager.
"Well," she said, drawing in a breath, "if that’s all, I guess this is my cue to say goodnight."
She began to step back, pulling the door with her.
"Wait." I reached out and stopped the door from closing.
"You’ve got something else to say?" Maeve asked, giving me a wary look.
"It’s more of a question." I raised my hand slightly in a non-threatening gesture. "You’ve made it pretty damn clear how badly you want this bond broken. I just need to know—why? I mean, I get it on my end. I’ve got a fiancée. But what’s your excuse?"
"My excuse? You narcissistic bastard." Maeve chuckled, holding my gaze with a confidence that set my teeth on edge. "First, I want nothing to do with you ever again. Our mate bond is a nuisance to me. And secondly, with all your talk about finding a chosen mate, I’m surprised it’s never occurred to you that I might’ve found mine, too."
"What?!" I snarled, my voice rising.
My nostrils flared as the full meaning of her words hit me like a sledgehammer. She had a second chance mate. Since when? Where had she met him? Who the fuck was he?
"You’ve got a second mate?" I spat, the words bitter as acid. "And you waited until now to say something?"
"I never felt the need to," she shrugged, infuriatingly nonchalant. "What I do with my love life is none of your business."
"Your love life?" I scoffed, barely restraining the fury bubbling in my chest. "Are you trying to tell me you love this wolf? Who the fuck is he?"
"Well, he’s definitely not you. That’s all you need to know. Now, if you’ve got nothing else to say, I’m going to bed."
"We’re not done here," I growled, stepping into the room. I pushed the door shut behind me and in the same motion, closed the distance between us, backing her up until she hit the wall.
"Not this again!" Maeve tried to push me away, but I pinned her there with the full length of my body.
Her body was warm against mine, and as twisted as it sounded, it pleased me to feel her breath quicken from our close proximity.
Her attempts to fight me off were weak—half-hearted at best.
Deep down, I could tell she was trying her hardest to hide the fact that her wolf was aroused by my closeness, stirred by my warmth, reacting despite her mind’s resistance.
"Who is he?" I asked, whispering the words dangerously close to her lips. "This second mate you speak of. Do I know him?"
"How could you possibly know him?" she huffed, glaring daggers at me.
I ignored the heat of her anger and pressed on. "Do you love him?"
"Do you really want to know the answer to that?" she asked, scoffing right in my face.
"Answer the question."
"Yes, Ivan. I love him very much. So much it aches. Is that what you want to hear?"
"I don’t believe you," I countered, taunting her now, my voice dropping lower. "If you really loved him, you never would’ve let me kiss you the way I did the other day."
"I never consented to that kiss," she shot back hotly. "It was more of an assault on your part. I had no choice but to take it in stride."
"You can deny it all you want, but I know you loved that kiss."
My gaze dropped then, slowly, deliberately, devouring her inch by inch. I drank in the way the silk of her robe hugged every filthy curve.
My eyes tracked the teasing dip between her breasts, the slight tremble in her thighs as she tried—and failed—to look unaffected.
Her nipples were peaked under the thin fabric, a sinful fucking dare my mouth ached to meet. Fucking hell, she’d be the death of me.
I wanted to press her up harder against the wall, slide down to my knees, and bury my face between her thighs until every moan that tore from her lips was my name—until she forgot every man who came after me.
Until this second chance mate becomes nothing but a distant memory.
I wanted to taste every truth, every lie, until she was wrecked and breathless and begging me to fuck her like a beast in heat.
"The same way I know this," I murmured, my eyes dragging slowly back up to meet hers, "is the same way I know you still want me. Your body can’t deny it, even if your mouth does."
"You’re crazy," she glared, renewing her struggle to get away from me.
I seized her wrists, pressing them gently but firmly to my chest.
"You want me, Maeve. So much it eats you alive. Admit it."
"It’ll be a cold day in hell before I admit to something as ludicrous as that," she snapped. "Now let go of me, you controlling jerk."
"Let go of her!" Asha’s tiny, furious voice rang out from the bedroom doorway.
The sound hit me like a splash of ice-cold water. I froze, every bit of heat and momentum zapped out of me in an instant.
I dropped Maeve’s wrists like they were scalding coals and stepped back quickly, guilt crashing down on me hard and fast.
Asha was standing there, small but holding a lamp in his shaky hands, his glare burning with something far worse than anger—disappointment.
I had been hated and scorned before. At different points in my life, I’d been cursed at, spat on, even feared.
But none of those things cut as deep as the scalding look of disappointment in my five-year-old son’s eyes.
"Asha," I began, raising my hands in surrender, trying to calm him. "This is not what it looks like."
"No!" he shouted, his little chest heaving, his expression fierce. "You’re a bad man! I want you to stay away from my mummy. Leave us alone!" His voice cracked slightly, but the warning in it was clear.
I might have been proud of his fearless reprimanding, if it hadn’t been aimed at me.
This tiny pup—the one person I wanted to impress more than anyone else in this godsdamned world—and I had already failed him. Again.
I just kept messing things up, even when I didn’t mean to.
"Your mum and I were just talking," I said quickly, the lump rising in my throat making it hard to breathe, let alone speak. "I would never hurt her. You have to believe me."
"I don’t believe you," Asha replied firmly, shaking his head so hard that his curls bounced with every movement. "Get out."
Not only had I been yelled at—I’d been dismissed, too.