I frown. “Will you not be there to protect me either way? Am I only worth your time if I were your mate?” Somehow this vitriol leaves a vile taste in my mouth.
The wounded look he throws my way tells me I’ve offended him. “I trust it is only stress making you say those words, and that you know me better than that by now, Maeve, so that I need not dignify that question with an answer.”
He’s right though, and I blush, chastised. “Sorry. I’m just— I don’t think I understood what you mean, then.”
In any case, this just further proves that I’m still quite broken. Without anything deeper other than attraction—and hypothetically the mate bond—I will be the toxic one in this relationship. I will keep doubting him, keep thinking I’m being screwed over again and again, always believing the worst
