Page 398 of Hate Mates

Orion Voss.

The warlock I should have feared. The warlock I never forgot.

He’s broader than he was all those years ago, his body carved into something lethal, all muscle and precision. His cloak shifts as he moves, revealing thick forearms veined with power, the hint of dark tattoos that creep along his skin like ancient markings of possession. His hair, the color of ink, falls in loosewaves around his face, brushing against the edge of his jaw. And his eyes?—

God, his eyes.

Glacial. Silver-blue. The kind of eyes that could cut through steel, through bone, through the last trembling defenses a woman has when she looks at a man like him and wants something she knows she should never have.

“Vivienne,” he murmurs.

My breath catches. It’s been so long since I heard my name on his lips. A lifetime. Another world.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I whisper, gripping the doorframe like it’s the only thing keeping me upright.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak for a long moment. Then, he reaches up, pulling the mask from his face, and I swear my heart stops.

He’s still devastatingly beautiful. Still the same man who let me go when he shouldn’t have. But there’s something different now. A weight in his expression, a darkness in his gaze that wasn’t there before.

“They sent me for you.”

The words slam into me. Cold. Absolute.

I take a step back, but there’s nowhere to go. No amount of distance will change the truth settling between us like an iron blade.

“No,” I breathe. “You—Orion, you can’t.”

His jaw tightens. His throat bobs as he swallows, and for just a moment, I see the man I once knew, the boy who didn’t take what he could have, the warlock who let me live when every instinct should have told him not to.

“I don’t have a choice.” His voice is low, rough, like it hurts to say the words.

I shake my head, heat rising in my chest, turning into something furious and helpless all at once. “You always have a choice.”

Orion exhales sharply, then steps forward. Too close. Too much. The heat of him presses into me, his scent—something dark, something rich—wrapping around me like smoke.

“I’ll give you five minutes.”

I freeze.

His voice is quiet. Steady.

Then, softer, more like a plea than a warning: “Run.”

Chapter Two

ORION VOSS

Iwatch her, waiting. My breath is slow, steady, but my body is tense, wound tight like a predator on the verge of striking. I can hear the frantic beat of her heart in the silence, the soft, barely-there tremor of her breath as realization settles in. She stands frozen, her dark hair wild around her shoulders, loose strands catching the moonlight, a stark contrast against the pale column of her throat. Her skin glows faintly beneath the trees, streaked with dirt, flushed with exertion, and yet she is still breathtaking—fierce, unbroken, every inch of her a challenge waiting to be answered.

She knows what I’ve just given her—a chance.

She doesn’t waste it.

Vivienne bolts.

I stay in the shadows, watching as she disappears into the woods, her dark cloak whipping behind her, her steps light but frantic. Every muscle in my body tenses, fighting against instinct, against everything I’ve ever been trained to do. I should go after her. I should chase her now, claim her like I’ve done with so many others.

But I don’t move. I let her go. Five minutes. That’s all I can give her.

---