Page 62 of The Alpha's Unclaimed Mate
I grin at that. “I think he has an idea. After he announced his engagement, I went out and partied. I came back wrecked. I wouldn’t be surprised if he thought I went out and got laid.”
Ethan’s eyes widen. “Sienna, you—”
“I was a woman scorned.” I shrug, ignoring the spasm of pain inside my chest. “He may not want me, but it did his pride some serious damage that his fated mate went out and found another man.”
“Did you, though?” Ethan asks in a hushed voice.
“Of course not! But I let him think it.”
“Strong and vindictive.” He grins. “Just my type.”
Being flirted with like this makes me feel slightly better. The knot of tension I’ve been carrying in my stomach for the past few days eases, and I give him a genuine smile.
“I’m really happy you came, Ethan. We may not know each other very well, but you have no idea how comforting your visit is.”
He smiles warmly. “I’m glad.”
We end up going to dinner after coffee, and while I don’t feel any butterflies in my stomach when I look at Ethan, I silently thank Violet and Darius for sending him here.
When we get back to the estate, I see Lucas’s office light still on, his silhouette in the window.
I look away and keep walking, my arm looped through Ethan’s.
Two nights later,I stand on the steps of the estate house as Ethan is about to leave.
He grins up at me. “Don’t go falling in love with anyone else for the next couple of weeks. I intend to wear you down when you return. You have no idea how good I look in tux.”
I laugh. “I make no promises.”
He comes back up to my step and cups my face with both hands, his voice warm and low. “Look after yourself. You’re not alone, Sienna. Don’t forget that.”
I nod, feeling slightly sad. Having Ethan here has been a huge comfort.
I watch his car disappear down the long driveway. The taillights shrink, and the gates swing closed behind him. The quiet that settles over the estate afterward is heavier than any I have known.
I walk back to my room on legs that feel borrowed. Alone again, the momentary distraction gone, I’m back to who I was.
I close the door softly behind me and stand in front of the full-length mirror by the armoire. The woman looking back at me is wearing a perfectly pressed, cream-colored blouse. Hair in a neat twist. Presentable. Professional. Unaffected.
I know how I look from the outside. I’ve been working on it.
But I am only a husk.
I lift one hand and watch the woman in the mirror lift hers, too. She makes the gesture with a smoothness that does not match what I feel, which is nothing. A small, dry nothing, like the inside of me has been scoured out with sand.
My wolf does not even lift her head when I focus inward. She is curled tightly behind my ribs, nose tucked under her tail, where she has been since the day Lydia took Lucas’s hand in the conference room. The deliberate humiliation of having our fated mate choose another in front of us broke her in a way I don’t know how to mend.
I used to roll my eyes at the way older pack members spoke about fated mate bonds. The stories were always the same. My grandmother had one: “You’ll know when you meet him. Your soul will know him. It’s the most beautiful thing.” I always smiled politely and thought, “Sure, but I am also perfectly capable of choosing my own mate, thank you.”
I did not understand.
I had no idea that a bond could hurt like this. That when a fated mate rejects you, he does not just walk away; he reaches inside you, takes out a piece of you, and leaves a hollow where it used to be. That your wolf, who is the oldest and truest part of you, can go so quiet, you begin to wonder if she is still alive in there at all.
Fairy tales. That is what I thought those stories were. Pretty, romantic, harmless fairy tales.
This is not a fairy tale.
I turn away from the mirror before I can start hating the woman in it.
