Page 19 of Orc's Pretend Mate

“You promised,” she whispers, turning away.

11

PHOEBE

Emotions clench my throat. The swirling maelstrom in my head competes with the storm of desire in my body. My lips still tingle from his kiss, and every nerve feels alive in ways I don’t know how to process. But the feeling of betrayal is louder and sharper, cutting through everything else.

Vapas seems distracted and oblivious. Frowning he takes my hand, rushing us through the streets. If I thought he was rushing before I was sorely mistaken. He moves us through the broken, crowded streets, without a care for whom or whatever is unfortunate enough to be in our way.

I’m still spinning from what happened when we enter his home. He shuts the door and it seems louder than it should. As if it’s not only closing out the world, but locking me inside, fueling the fear and outrage. My stomach clenches tight.

“You promised,” I whisper again, barely able to get the words out as I turn away. My hands tremble and I curl them into fists, desperate for some semblance of control.

“Phoebe,” he says, his voice low and rough, almost pleading. “I had no choice. They would have taken you.”

I whip around, anger bubbling up to cover the ache in my chest.

“No choice? There’s always a choice, Vapas. You could have warned me. Told me what you were about to do instead of just… just grabbing me!”

His brow furrows, his face a contorting in a display of conflict.

“And risk giving them time to see through the act? Do you think the Maulavi give second chances?” he asks, growling and narrowing his eyes.

I want to argue, but the memory of those cold, predatory eyes makes the words falter on my tongue. He’s right, isn’t he? They were watching me, hunting me with their gazes. One wrong move, and they would’ve dragged me off to a fate I don’t even want to begin to imagine.

But it doesn’t make what he did feel any less like a betrayal.

“I trusted you,” I say, my voice softer but still laced with hurt.

His lips press into a thin line, his hands flexing at his sides like he doesn’t know what to do with them. “You can still trust me, Phoebe. I swore to protect you, and I meant it.”

“Protect me? Or use me?” The question slips out before I can stop it, and I see the way it lands, like a blow he wasn’t expecting.

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, I think he’s going to lash out, but he doesn’t. Instead, he looks away, his gaze distant. “I didn’t want to do that. I never wanted to touch you without your permission.”

The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard, softening the hard edges of my anger.

“Then, why?”

His eyes snap back to mine, and I see the weight he carries there. “Because you’re my responsibility. And because…” he pauses, it’s less than a second, but I catch it and know that he changes what he was going to say, “losing you is not an option I’m willing to accept.”

The words hit something deep inside me, a part of me that’s been so desperate for safety, for someone to fight for me, even as I try to convince myself I don’t need it.

I cross my arms over my chest, trying to ignore the heat still lingering in my cheeks.

“Next time, warn me. No more surprises, Vapas. I need to know I can trust you.”

“You can,” he says simply.

It’s not enough—not yet—but there’s something in his voice that makes me want to believe him.

“Fine,” I say, turning towards the kitchen. The house is too small, too close, and too filled with him. My heartbeat is loud in my ears. Where do I go? What do I do?

He doesn’t argue, but I feel the tension between us, thick and unresolved, like an unspoken promise neither of us knows how to keep.

I walk into the living space. It’s such a short distance and does nothing to put the space between us that I desperately need. Hispresence is a weight, pressing against me the same as his body did such a short a time ago.

Turning around, I see Vapas remains at the door. He’s staring at the floor, muttering to himself. I watch, unsure what to do. I could go upstairs, but it’s not as if there is anything up there to do either. I could lay down, stare at the ceiling, wait for some unknown something to happen.

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