Page 23 of Heart of the Rebel Mate

The bond pulls—fights—but she shoves it down, shovesmedown.

"You're still part of the Council." Her breath shudders, just for a second, before she tamps it down. "You're still working against me."

I open my mouth to argue, to tell her she's wrong, but the words die before they reach my lips. Because deep down, I know she's not entirely wrong.

"I'm not trying to work against you," I say finally, my voice softer now. "I just?—"

"Just what?" she demands, her voice cracking with emotion.

I take a step back, my hands curling into fists at my sides as I try to regain control.

"I just don't want to see you get hurt," I say quietly, the admission feeling like a weight I didn't realize I was carrying.

Her eyes soften for a fraction of a second before the fire returns. "I can take care of myself, Adrian."

She grabs her bag and the stack of records she'd been working through, her movements brisk and deliberate. I watch as she heads for the exit, her boots clicking softly against the polished floor.

I don't call after her.

The library feels emptier without her, the air colder somehow. I sink back into the chair she left behind, my hands braced against the table as I stare at the mess of documents and books she abandoned.

The book she had been reading was still there, opened on the page she had left it on. My breath locks in my throat.

Slowly, I reach for it, fingers brushing against the worn pages. The title alone is enough to send a sharp, unwelcome pulse through my chest. I flip it open, skimming through the dense text until a passage catches my eye.

"Though true severance of a fated bond is rare, history has documented isolated cases where the connection between mates has weakened or faded due to external interference. The method of forced diminishment remains largely theoretical, as there is no known record of it being successfully executed in modern history."

My fingers tighten around the pages, my jaw clenching.

I drag a hand down my face, forcing my breath to steady. Maybe it's just research. Maybe she's just covering every possible angle, just trying to understand.

I shove the book back onto the table and push to my feet, the chair scraping against the floor.

I can't let this happen. Not without answers.

CHAPTER 9

ELARA

The night air is cool against my skin, but it does nothing to quiet the heat still thrumming beneath the surface. My grip tightens on the railing, my pulse an unsteady rhythm in my ears.

I can still feel him.

Adrian.

The way his presence consumed the air between us at the library. The way his voice, sharp and low, sent something trembling through me. The way I should have pulled away—but didn't.

I press my fingers to my lips, as if that could erase the memory of his breath ghosting over them. A shiver runs through me, but it's not from the cold.

This shouldn't be happening.

Whatever this is—this pull, this unbearable awareness—it's nothing. It has to be.

I close my eyes, exhaling sharply. Focus. The Council. The project. Cassian. There are bigger things to think about, bigger problems to face.

But no matter how hard I try, my thoughts keep circling back.

To him.

---