Page 57 of My Fated Mate

"Whether you like it or not, Elowen, you're in danger. And I won't let anything happen to you."

"Oh, and who decides that?" I throw my hands up in the air. "Is it you, the almighty Alpha? The protector of all things weak and helpless?"

Thorne's jaw clenches, and for a moment, I think he might yell back. But instead, he takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

"No," he says finally, his voice low and controlled. "It's not about power. It's about protecting you. You're my mate, Elowen."

Mate. The word is a foreign concept wrapped in a familiar ache.

"Don't you dare call me that," I snap. "Not after what happened. You rejected me, Thorne. You made it clear I wasn't good enough for you."

There is pain in his eyes but also a glimpse of vulnerability. Then, he takes a step closer.

"Elowen," he says, "Believe me, I never wanted to reject you. The moment I felt the mate bond snap between us, it was like a part of me was ripped away."

My breath catches. Is he… admitting his feelings? I can’t allow myself to believe that. He is cruel—not vulnerable.

"Then why did you do it, Thorne?" I whisper, unsure.

He hesitates, his eyes searching mine. Then, he sighs. "There's… more to it than I can explain right now. But trust me, Elowen, rejecting you was the hardest thing I've ever done."

A part of me wants to believe him—wants to feel the warmth of connection again. But the other part, the scarred and disillusioned part, remembers the sting of rejection.

Before I can respond, he takes another step closer, his presence filling the small room. His scent, a mix of pine and damp earth, washes over me. It’s familiar and intoxicating.

"Elowen," he murmurs, "Don't shut me out."

He reaches out, his hand cupping the air around my face. My body aches for him to make that contact, but I draw away.

"Don't," I whisper.

He lowers his hand slowly, his gaze lingering on mine for a moment. But something dark and primal crosses his features. Suddenly, he grabs me, pulling me against his chest. The unexpectedness of it sends a jolt through me.

"Elowen," he growls, his voice thick with urgency. "Don't push me away."

He buries his face in my hair, inhaling my scent. My heart hammers against my ribs.

Before I can even think, my arms instinctively wrap around his back, clinging to him like a lifeline. In this unexpected embrace, all the anger and hurt seem to melt away.

There's a fierce possessiveness in his touch, a raw need that mirrors the storm brewing within me. He kisses my hair, then slowly trails his lips down my neck, his touch sending shivers down my spine.

A whimper escapes my lips, a sound both of fear and surrender. This is a dangerous path, one that threatens to unravel the fragile control I've held onto.

His palm cups my cheek, tilting my face up to his. His eyes, blazing with a mixture of desire and something I can't quite decipher, hold me captive.

"Elowen," he whispers, his voice rough with emotion. "Let me show you how I feel."

Then, his lips meet mine. It's a kiss unlike any I've ever experienced, filled with a raw intensity that takes my breath away. It's a desperate plea, a battle for dominance, and a surrender all rolled into one.

We devour each other, and the kiss unleashes a storm of emotions. Anger, hurt, confusion—it all melts away in the heat of his touch.

But just as quickly as it started, I pull away, gasping for breath. My head spins.

"No," I whisper, my voice ragged. Shame burns through me, hot and unwelcome. What was I thinking? Letting him kiss me, letting myself get lost in him again? It changes nothing.

Thorne stares at me, his expression unreadable.

"Elowen."

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