Page 23 of Betrayed Alpha Mate

“Wanna sit down?” he asks with brows raised expectantly. “I made you an omelet without cheese. I know you’re—”

“Lactose intolerant,” I finish for him, in a daze because I would have never expected him to remember that detail.

“Yeah,” he says calmly as he flips the omelet onto a plate, then carries the empty pan to the sink. “Which reminds me, I need to stock up on lactose-free stuff now that you’re here,” he casually throws over his shoulder as he unties the apron and sets it aside before returning to the table.

He stops and looks up at me, frowning because I’m still standing, shocked by the man I’m experiencing right now.

I’d spent five years resenting him, hating him for the heartbreak because there was a time when I dreamed of this very moment—having him be the only man in my life who would dote on me, see me and the small things about me, and care for me.

There was even once a time when that dream didn’t seem impossible, and Sean embodied everything I could have asked for in a man. That’s why I fell in love with him in the first place, but he showed me that dreams can be crushed.

I can see right through him now. Underneath the warm layers of a binding spell lies a cold, indifferent, cruel man.

And I will not be his fool.

Sean, on the other hand, suddenly becomes more determined than ever to be a good host. He rounds the table and comes toward me, swaps out the plates, then pulls out the chair in front of me before gesturing to it.

“After you, madam…” he says courteously with his head bowed, and my gut churns.

“Please don’t call me that,” I murmur bluntly, cemented in place, only folding my arms.

Sean lifts his head slowly, the sun’s slanted rays slipping through the kitchen blinds and catching his face in a way that illuminates his features. His eyes become softer while turning more radiant, his lips highlighted in a way that magnifies the curves and fullness, his sharp nose pointed like royalty.

The single second steals my breath, and I feel my body soften at the thought of running my fingertips across his jawline and feeling what the dark hairs of his beard feel like. I’ve had a curiosity about it since I met up with him during his black ops missions in Canada, and I joined as the medic. He’d been lying, half-dead, on a blow-up bed in a tent, and I’d seen him after a whole year.

Before his mother died and he left to join the squad, he’d always been clean-shaven and fresh-faced. Seeing him with a beard was like meeting someone different, but his eyes always held the truth of the night of the funeral.

And the eyes never lie. That’s why, when I meet them now, I’m reminded of the past, and I can’t escape the talons of darkness that try to reel me back into the dark space I’d been in for years when it came to Sean.

“What should I call you, then?” he asks, straightening up, though his eyes remain soft.

My knees threaten to buckle under my weight, only because the truth is slipping from my fingers.

“Don’t call me anything,” I sneer vindictively. “Just refer to me as Emily.”

“Okay, Emily,” he concedes gently, gesturing to the chair again. “Please, have a seat.”

“I’m not hungry,” I retort with the bitterness of the lie on my tongue like bile.

“You haven’t eaten—” Sean begins to protest, but I cut him off by stepping forward and grabbing an apple from the basket, then holding it up in front of his face.

“This is good enough for me,” I say, spinning on my heel to turn away, when somehow, I trip over my own feet and fall forward.

I shut my eyes, bracing for impact with the floor, but it doesn’t come. Instead, another impact hits me, spurring me to open my eyes wide with shock.

Pulses of undeniable electric awareness swim through my arm from the source of Sean’s hand where he holds me. More energy pulses through my palms from where they’re planted on his solid chest.

My breath is stolen again, my heart slowing down as if to etch this moment in time into memory. Sean doesn’t move either, his eyes fixed on mine as if he’s listening to the silent expression of my soul, of my inner wolf.

She betrays me—my inner wolf. She claws at my consciousness as if she’s fighting for what she believes to be true—the fated mate bond—while ignoring the torture my heart faced because of it. The same thing happened last night when Sean swept me aside so we could pretend-kiss for the sake of appearances, but things like this are slowly chipping away at my resolve.

I quickly pull away, determined to get as far away from him as possible. I know that this makes me look weak. It looks like I’m running, but I don’t have the strength to face him right now and pretend that I’m not affected by his presence, by his touch. I hate that I feel that way.

I hate him for it!

It’s only when I’m behind the closed door of my new bedroom that I can breathe again. It’s a lengthy inhale meant to calm my nervous system, currently storming with everything I refused to feel for five years.

I can’t let it consume me like this, even if tears are falling from my eyes like my inner wolf is weeping to be close to her fated mate. Staring at my palms, I also realize that my powers are null and void the further I run from him.