If the past year and a half was harrowing, then what would the rest of our lives look like now that we’d bonded in a way that went beyond the bounds of marriage?

“Look at me, Aster.”

I did, pulling the blankets to my chin and waiting as he studied me some more.

“You do not love him,” he finally said, his thick brows furrowing hard enough to cause his scar to bunch slightly.

Perhaps for the first time, I said out loud, “Not in that way. Not…” My head shook, and I came close to laughing as the acceptance of the truth cemented deep within me—within my words. “Not anymore.”

The fear of knowing I would need to see Rorn again stemmed from what once was. From what he’d done and what he might yet do.

Scythe blinked, tilting his head and folding his plush lips between his teeth. Then he leaned forward, the leather vest over his tunic creaking, and clasped his hands between his spread knees. “Why come back now?”

“I heard there was a battle. I needed to see you.”

“Make sure I’m still breathing and then run home again?” His eye swept over my face. “To the husband of whom you do not love yet would still choose over your mate.”

“It’s not that simple.”

A dark brow rose. “Why?”

I couldn’t tell him. I couldn’t explain everything the way he needed. It would only make things worse. I needed time to figure out how to reveal what I could to him—a way to make him understand without him understanding the things he could not.

He didn’t push for a response.

The wolf who’d altered our entire lives so recklessly without even knowing the extent rose from the armchair. He stared down at me, and I twisted to better see him. My eyes roamed up his towering black-and-crimson-wrapped bulk to try to read what he might do next.

But I was given one last look that lingered at my mouth, his nostrils flaring as the air around him darkened before he vanished.

NINETEEN

Scythe

Aster could leave.

I would have little to no trouble finding her now that I’d made sure she was mine. My mate could return to her precious husband, but this time, it would not be without consequences.

Bloody and oh so beautiful consequences.

The mere thought of unleashing this rage—this hatred born from jealousy and something foreign I struggled to name—upon the asshole who hadn’t appreciated what he’d had in a creature who wasn’t even his to keep…

I shivered, a wave of pleasure rolling over me from head to fucking toe.

Yes, this mate of mine would need to tread very carefully indeed.