Page 101 of Claimed By My Fiancé's Brother

“I don’t want you at my side,” I snapped.

Leave, Eleanor. Please.

Eleanor didn’t budge. Her eyes still silently pleaded with me to let her in.

“I don’t believe you,” she said.

I gripped her arm tight, ignoring her wince of pain and her attempts to break free of my hold.

“There you go again, thinking I’m some sort of saint,” I jeered, a smirk on my face. “No matter what you believe, Eleanor, it doesn’t change the very simple fact that I. Don’t. Want. You.”

Eleanor’s fierce gaze burned into me as she refused to back down, but I could feel the tremble that worked its way through her at my words.

It wasn’t enough.

I needed to push her far enough that she would never forgive me. That was the only path she could take.

Please forgive me. No. Don’t forgive me. Ever.

Tightening my hold on her enough that I knew it would leave bruises, I tried again.

“I will take whatever female I want to my bed to satisfy my desires. It could be Anastasia or anyone else I don’t find as repulsive as you, and I won’t hear a single complaint from you.”

I felt Eleanor break.

She raised her hand to hit me, but I caught her wrist with my free hand, easily restraining her.

“You asshole,” Eleanor seethed, and there was no hope left in her gaze, only anger. Her fury coursed through our mate bond like a wildfire. “You don’t deserve me.”

On that, we could both agree.

Yes. You deserve better, Eleanor.

So why did this hurt so damn much?

CHAPTER 17

ELEANOR

We walked in complete silence.

It wasn’t the companionable kind.

Alexander was the last thing on my mind, even though he was so close that his scent messed with my senses. So close that I could hear his heartbeat, which remained steady despite the fact that everything was going to hell.

Or so I assumed.

No one knew for sure what was going on.

Dylan had returned hours ago with significantly fewer wolves than he’d left with, and the war bells hadn’t stopped ringing since then.

Then the summons had come for Alexander and me.

I hadn’t exchanged one word with him in the twenty-four hours since our argument.

There was nothing left to say.

When we entered the receiving room, Dylan was seated next to Micah on the elevated dais in the center of the room.

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