She exhales slowly, a deep breath that seems to settle sothing inside her. Her gray eyes study , calm but determined, as if she’s preparing herself for the weight of her own words.
"Do you not rember eting months ago?" she asks.
I hesitate.
Because I should say no.
I don’t rember eting her.
At least, I shouldn’t.
But sothing holds back.
Because for months, she’s been there. In my dreams, in the flashes of mory that don’t make sense. I rember the way her skin glowed under the moonlight, the warmth of her body pressed against mine, the way my pulse thundered in my ears.
And I rember teeth.
Biting.Heat.I shove the mory away, forcing myself back to the present.
She watches closely, as if waiting for recognition to flicker across my face.
"Well," she continues, voice steady, "we did. You bit . We’re mates."
I blink, staring at her like she’s lost her damn mind.
"I’m sorry, what?" The words slip out before I can stop them, laced with genuine confusion.
She doesn’t flinch.Instead, she holds my gaze, unwavering. Unshakable.
"You’re my mate, Caron Anderson."
The way she says my na, the certainty in her voice—it does sothing to , sothing I don’t like.Sothing warm and almost familiar unfurls in my chest, wrapping around my ribs like a vice.
I shut it down. Imdiately.
This is insane. She’s insane.This is so kind of trick, so elaborate ploy—though I can’t, for the life of , understand why. I rub the back of my neck, trying to steady myself.
"Listen," I say carefully, forcing an even tone. "I don’t think we’re on the sa wavelength right now."
Her expression flickers—not with anger, but sothing worse.
Understanding.Like she’s just figured sothing out,she tilts her head slightly, studying like a puzzle that suddenly doesn’t fit together the way she expected.
"Do you at least know about wolves?" she asks.
"The animal?" I say, my brows furrowing.
And that’s when her entire deanor shifts. Her posture stiffens. Her fingers tighten slightly against the table.
She looks at like I just told her the sun doesn’t rise in the east.
Or worse—like she’s looking at sothing broken.
I shift uncomfortably in my seat, feeling like the room is suddenly too small, the air thick and pressing against my chest.
Her gaze doesn’t waver. It’s heavy, like she’s trying to look through , past the layers I’ve carefully built, straight into sothing I don’t even understand myself.
She sighs again, like I’m a child who just doesn’t get it, and leans forward slightly, her voice softer this ti but edged with frustration.
"I’m a wolf. You’re a wolf. We’re mated."
She says it slowly, like that’s supposed to explain everything.
Like that’s supposed to make sense.
"Uh-huh..." I reply, dragging out the sound, nodding slightly as if I’m humoring her.
But inside, my brain is screaming, What the actual hell?
I glance toward the door, calculating the steps it would take to get out of here without looking like a complete lunatic. She’s clearly insane.
She straightens her posture, her gray eyes locked on mine, unwavering.
"We’re essentially bonded... uh... no... married. You and I."
Married?
Okay. That’s it. She’s completely lost it.
I exhale sharply, pushing my chair back slightly, ready to leave.
"Listen to , lady—"
"Lenora."
She cuts off with that single word, her na landing between us like a challenge.
Lenora.
I hate that it sounds perfect.
I hate that it fits her so well, sharp and soft all at once, like everything about her.
I shake my head, trying to dislodge whatever weird fog has settled over my thoughts.
"Well, Lenora," I say, my voice tight with irritation, "I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m not your—"
I don’t even get to finish the sentence.
A hand clamps over my mouth.
I jerk back instinctively, adrenaline surging, muscles tensing as I try to react, but the grip is too fast, too strong.
What the hell?
I struggle, my reflexes kicking in, but the hand doesn’t budge.
"I’m really sorry about this, Anderson," Adrian’s voice says smoothly, far too close, like he’s been right there the whole ti.
How the hell did he get to so fast?
I try to say sothing, demand an explanation, but my words are muffled, swallowed by the pressure of his hand.
And then—
Everything goes black.
The last thing I see before the darkness swallows whole is a pair of storm-gray eyes, wide with sothing I can’t place—regret, maybe.
Or sothing worse.
When my body goes limp, the only thing I feel is the faint echo of that na in my head.
Lenora.
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