My heart rate picks up as he moves. He stands up, moving in front of me before kneeling. His hands go to my knees, but I shove them off and he runs his hand through his hair. He looks more tired than I have ever seen him.
“What do you want, Silas?” I ask, climbing back in bed and pulling the covers up. He gets up, sitting on the bed beside me. “My mates hate me,” he says, placing his head in his hands. I almost feel bad for him, almost. He looks defeated, but he did it to himself and would get no sympathy from me.
Rolling over, I turn my back on him, intending to ignore him. Like what did he expect? For me to feel sorry for him?
“Elora, please don’t turn away from me,” he says, rolling me onto my back.
“Why are you here? If it is to make me feel bad for you. I don’t,” I tell him.
“I
