Page 53 of Heart of the Rebel Mate

I don't mean to get too close. It happens in a blur—the moment shifting, slipping out of my control.

Adrian steps toward me, his presence suffocating in the small space. My back brushes the cool stone wall, and his arms cage me in, one hand braced beside my head, the other resting lightly—too lightly—on my hip. Not restraining. Not demanding. Just there. There is pain in his eyes. The sight of me and Cassian must have driven him mad. But he can't help but touch me and feel close to me.

The heat of his palm seeps through my clothes, burning, branding. My pulse skitters.

"Elara," he says, low and rough, the sound coiling in my stomach.

His scent—something dark and crisp, edged with steel and cedar—fills my lungs, and suddenly I can't breathe right. My body betrays me, reacting before my mind can form a protest. My skin tightens, my thighs press together as a slow, aching warmth spreads between them.

I tell myself it's just the situation. The tension. The proximity.

But then he moves his thumb, just the barest stroke against my waist, and I feel it deep, a pulse of need that shocks me.

I look up, and his eyes are unreadable, but I know he sees it. Knows it.

I push at his chest—not hard enough to make him move, just enough to remind myself I can.

"Cassian was just being Cassian. Please–"

At that moment, he flinches, just a tiny bit, but I notice. It's my fault. I shouldn't have mentioned Cassian while we were sharing an intimate moment, but I felt I needed to clear the air.

Adrian pulls back a bit more. I stay silent, knowing it's a lost cause by now. He turns on his heel and walks away.

The air leaves my lungs in a sharp exhale.

Not a word.

Not a glance back.

He just walks away, like I'm nothing. Like I didn't just stand here and push Cassian away.

The weight of it crashes into me all at once, sudden and brutal. My pulse pounds in my ears, my hands shaking at my sides.

I did nothing wrong.

So why does it feel like I did?

I press a hand to my temple, inhaling deeply. The scent of sweat and wood polish, usually grounding, suddenly suffocates. The training hall feels too vast, too empty.

I should leave.

I should go after him.

But I don't.

Instead, I stand frozen, heart hammering, the ghost of Adrian's stare still burning into my skin.

CHAPTER 16

ADRIAN

The documents in front of me blur as I stare at them, the words losing shape and meaning. I rub my temples, but it does nothing to dispel the tight ache forming behind my eyes.

It isn't the reports that are exhausting me.

It's her.

Elara.

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