Page 62 of Rogue Alpha Prince

“Yes,” says Claudia at the same time, “Like a bitch.”

“Atlas couldn’t feel his mate yet, so he didn’t feel a thing,” Beta explains, “Claudia did feel her mate, so she got hit with a double force of breaking the bond.”

“And he knew that,” she spits, looking at Atlas offensively, but her eyes still have some longing in them.

So, the tattooed guy is scared of commitment? But why did Atlas do such a thing? The whole situation seems cruel if he rejected her without her consent, or giving it a fair chance. I don’t want to ask in front of her, because she’s clearly still hurt by it. And if I’m correct, she still has some normal human emotion left for him. Maybe it’s just the attraction—he’s a fine piece of man—or perhaps she’s in love. Either way, I don’t want to rub salt into her wounds.

“I have to go,” says Cain, and puts his sword under my chin in a similar way to what I just did to his girl a few minutes ago. “Asher?”

I grab the blade with my left hand and push it back from me. “Alpha?”

Claudia gasps at the blood dripping down from my palm—straight to the wine cup and white cloth beneath, but I don’t withdraw it even with the sting of silver.

“Wait for me with a bath.”

I didn’t wait for Cain. I am woken up by him lifting me from the bed and throwing me into the lukewarm water I already used.

I want to scream, but I don’t. I clench my teeth and wait for him to scrub my body like the good girl I can be.

“We have to postpone our date,” he says in the middle of the cleaning.

Whatever. I almost forgot about it. It’s not like he can do anything romantic for me. I don’t say anything back, just stare at him.

He yanks me up from the now-cold water, and starts to dry me off with his towel. I notice he is clean already; with no sign of the blood he had at dinner. I can’t stop myself from wondering what he did after he left the hall. Did he fuck that girl then clean himself before coming back to me?

I look to the side, trying to hide the influx of my emotions.

In vain apparently. He grabs my jaw and turns my face to him.

“Asher.” A peck on my nose. “Don’t.” A chaste kiss on my cheek. “Overthink.” A searing hot kiss on my mouth.

I wrap my hands around his neck as he lifts me and turns to the bed.

He stops the kiss abruptly.

“Wait, why did you sleep naked?” he asks, looking me in the eyes.

“Iwaswaiting for you,” I try to flirt and be offended at the same time.

He chuckles and unceremoniously throws me on the bed.

“Dress up,” he says, pointing at his black t-shirt and my black cotton panties. Hmm, he must have prepared it while I was still asleep.

I put the clothes on, but a small part of me wishes he would want me naked. I was sure he would want me naked. The pang of rejection haunts my heart.

I climb under the covers and look at him standing by his desk, where he shuffles some papers.

Maybe it’s for the better that he doesn’t want me—with the things he does, I’m not exactly in the mood either. Not with this unpleasant feeling I have since watching him let that girl touch him like that…

“Stop staring at my ass,” he says bluntly, turning to face me, and my eyes shoot up to his.

I did stare, fuck.

“What did you do after dinner?” I question him, not losing eye contact.

He smirks at me and crosses his arms over his chest.

“I had an e-meeting with your brother.”

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