Page 69 of Plus-Size Sold Mate
Hurt flickers through him, and his brows pinch again. “Because of me?”
“Yes,” I utter, not hiding the truth of it. “Being the weird girl was one thing, but as your mate, your Luna, and your heir’s mother, I’m the perfect one to blame. Everything is my fault.”
Luke’s grip tightens on my arms just enough to be assertive, and his expression hardens. “Look at me. Please.”
When I do, his eyes are almost as intense as they had been during the announcement. “You are not the problem. Their fear and refusal to change are.”
Even if I believe his words, just taking them at face value doesn’t feel like enough anymore.
He takes me in, looking like he’s clinging to any scrap of determination he can. “I chose you…and I’d choose you again every time.”
Between the pregnancy and having to keep a brave face for this long, the fight drains out of me, and the words leave me in quiet defeat. “I can’t keep doing this…constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop when I know it’s coming.”
I’m at my limit, and I’m exhausted. I’m afraid I’ll have to bring a child into a pack that doesn’t fully want me, and that thought is terrifying.
Luke’s jaw tightens. “You think I’d let that happen?”
“I think some things are out of your control.”
The scant space between us feels far heavier now while he just stares at me, thoughts racing through his eyes. Then, as if realizing pushing will only make it worse, he slowly releases me.
“I’m not letting you push me away.”
“I’m not pushing you away. I just need to think and sort this out before I lose my mind,” I mumble, wanting more than anything for this conversation to be over.
I feel as he bristles through the connection before he can stop it.
“You’re my mate, Sera. We face this together.”
“And we will,” I say, pulling myself away. “But right now, I need to think without you trying to fix it all.”
I can’t bring myself to look at his reaction, but given how strained the bond feels right now, I know it isn’t good.
“I’m not your enemy,” Luke says, staying where he is.
“I know that,” I murmur, pulling in a shallow breath, unable to ignore how hollow my chest feels.
Not waiting for him, I head back toward the yard and into the house, feeling as he follows from a distance.
Inside, I get myself dressed for bed with deliberate slowness, aching in nearly every part of my body before I head toward the door.
Luke stands nearby, not saying anything until I’m next to him. Then, he murmurs, “You don’t have to do this.”
“I do.”
Something like frustration tangled with the desire to be softer surrounds him as he exhales. “This won’t solve anything.”
“Maybe not. But I need this,” I insist quietly. “Just let me have it.”
Once I’m within reach, Luke gently takes my wrist, guiding me closer until he presses his forehead against mine. Eyes closed, he pulls in a deep breath. “I hate this.”
The admission makes me soften just enough not to pull away, and I mirror him. “So do I.”
I can tell that he wants to argue more and to demand I stay with him in bed, forcing the stance away with sheer will, but he doesn’t. Instead, reluctant resolve blankets him as his lips brush against my temple before he pulls back to give me space.
It takes incredible willpower not to fold from the sadness in his eyes.
“I’ll be here if you need me.”
