Artemisia
I can’t remember a moment in my life when I felt more uncomfortable.
Well, except for that rejection part.
Forget that. But it is flipping awkward.
As I climb the stairs to my room with my new companion, he takes his time to look at everything. And even if his stoic face keeps frowning annoyed, I can still get that he is genuinely interested in how his mate is living.
Stupid Mate bond.
“This is my room,” I say, feeling a bit nervous as I open the door to my bedroom for him to enter.
Choosing not to close it all the way, I get his disappointment washing over me. And not only because he glares at me.
“I just don’t want my parents to worry. Don’t look at me like that.”
He scoffs, turning around my room nonchalantly.
I start to pack my most essential things while he looks a
