Page 341 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

One weekend of orgasms does not a mate make.

I would not fall apart over a feral male.

He was just a guy.

A ridiculously good lay.

A stranger, practically.

Kind of.

Sort of.

Not really. Not when every time I closed my eyes, I saw him. In the theater. On the battlefield. Bent over me in the dark.

The burn of his voice in that crypt. The reverence in his hands. The way he’d said I was his other half—in French, no less. Who the hell says that?

I groaned and rolled off the bed, resisting the urge to steal the pillow and smother myself. Instead, I resumed pacing. Again.

Third lap. Fourth. The buzz of my phone on the coffee table made me lunge so hard I smacked the ever-loving shit out of my shin on the corner. I fumbled the device, heart in my throat.

Not his name.

Tessa

Still nothing. You want me to check the manor, or their cabins?

Freya

Would you? Please?

Tessa

Give me a sec.

Sliding the phone into my back pocket, I kept pacing. Tears stung, for two reasons. One—because I had no right to expect Tessa’s loyalty, and yet she leapt into action like she’d bled for me in another life. And two—because something was wrong.

“Where are you?” I whispered. For the first time, I reached for that molten thread between us. That heat behind my ribs that pulled me out, out into the world. For the second time—I found nothing. Just a wall. Silence.

He deserved the truth. All of it.

Binding him before he knew why I was here—before he knew what I’d come to do—would be a cruelty even I couldn’t stomach. Binding him and then robbing his family of their honor and their tradition?

No. He needed to know. He deserved to choose. That was the point. That was why I was here.

Back and forth, back and forth. My mind spun while my feet wore a trench in the carpet. I checked my phone again. Nothing from Ally, either. They were running security at Hazelharbor tonight. Probably busy.

Probably—

No. The hourglass had been less than half-drained when I’d left for my shower. We had time.

And yet…

Sweat slicked my palms. My throat tightened. My fingers ached, swollen and hot.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

My phone buzzed, and I about threw my shoulder out of joint reaching for it in the wrong back pocket.