Page 23 of The Silent Mate

The surface of my eyes prickled, and I opened my mouth to start another apology, but he had already turned away from me.Malik adjusted himself in his sweatpants as he walked toward the front door, and I didn’t have the courage to stop him. If he needed space, I would give it to him.

I stayed in the kitchen long after my mate left, staring at nothingness and wondering how the situation had warped so quickly. How I could possibly rectify it… And every time I inhaled his lingering scent, I was reminded of what we’d done in the kitchen. How perfectly our bodies fit together. How my blood sang in response to his touch.

A dull ache spread through my belly.

Although Ismelledlike I belonged to Malik, I felt further away from him than ever.

10

MALIK

Iran.

Like a damned coward, I ran from my mate.

The memory of tears brimming in her brilliant blues haunted every step I took as I fled fromIntonat Nocteterritory. She’d tried to explain herself, a debilitating combination of horror and guilt scrawled across her angelic features, as if she thoughtshewas to blame for the drastic change of events.

That couldn’t have been further from the truth.

If anyone needed to apologize, it was me. For reacting the way I did to her fingers merely brushing my scars. For storming out of the house without explanation. For shackling her to an irreparably damaged mate.

An overbearing tangle of self-loathing and guilt churned in the pit of my stomach for hours on end, driving me further and further away from Aria. My psyche teetered on a dangerous edge. One moment, I wanted nothing more than to disappear or find some being strong enough to snuff the life from my veins, if only to give my little dove a chance at happinesselsewhere. The next, I felt the undeniable urge to return to her.

Eventually, when the sun disappeared behind the horizon and streaks of orange and purple painted the sky, I found myself outside of my little cottage once more.

My chest still felt tight, and I couldn’t force my claws to retreat from the tips of my fingers, so I clamped my hands into fists and allowed the daggers to slice into my palms. The pain was a welcome distraction.

I’d stopped by the pack’s outhouse to collect the clothing I’d abandoned earlier that morning so I’d be fully clothed when I returned. I didn’t fully understand why. Aria had already seen my naked body. Perhaps because a part of me wanted to appear civil for her, despite my monstrous appearance.

As I approached the front door, my steps slowed. I paused and held my breath, focusing on the soft thrum of Aria’s heartbeat on the other side of the wooden barrier.

She was still here.Shehadn’t run away.

Releasing a deep exhale, I took a key from my back pocket and slipped it into the deadbolt. It was already unlocked, as if she’d left it open for me in hopes that I’d come home. Another day, I’d warn her to always keep the house locked when she was alone, but today, I allowed the thought to soothe the painful emptiness spanning the spot where my heart should’ve been.

When I opened the door, Aria’s sweet scent infiltrated my lungs alongside a different, more savory smell. The lights were dim, but my eyes quickly adjusted as I stepped inside.

“You’re back.” Aria’s soft voice reached me like a lark’s song, a tantalizing melody of hopefulness and regret.

She stood beside the kitchen table, a small circular slab of wood I’d cut and carved a handful of years ago. Three candles burned atop the tablecloth, rivulets of wax dripping down all sides. She must’ve stolen them from a drawer in the kitchen.The flames had nearly reached the quick, like they’d been burning—waiting—for hours.

“I made dinner,” she continued, a slight tremble to her words. “I couldn’t find many ingredients in your pantry or refrigerator, but I managed to scrounge up some spaghetti. I know it’s not much, but…” Aria trailed off, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her t-shirt.

She made me dinner.

I couldn’t remember the last time someone made me dinner.

Unable to voice my gratitude or the beginnings of an apology, I merely turned to shut the front door behind me then approached the table.

As I passed the kitchen counter, the lingering scent of Aria’s arousal from earlier in the day infiltrated by nostrils, and regret lanced through me. I willed myself not to think about it—not to spiral back into that pit of self-hatred and degradation. If I wanted any shot at making this female mine, I couldn’t allow those dark thoughts to govern me.

She remained standing by one of the chairs, hands clasping and unclasping in front of her. A sliver of white surrounded her irises as she watched my every movement.

When I arrived opposite her, I glanced at the immaculately set table. Empty plates graced each placemat, flanked by forks, knives, and water glasses with condensation dripping down the sides. And, between the placemats, sat a notepad and pen.

She noticed the direction of my gaze and cleared her throat. “I- I thought we could get to know one another. We’ll ask each other questions and both write our answers down. It—” A small, hopeful smile graced her lips. “It’ll be like passing notes.”

Like passing notes.I’d never done that before. Come to think of it, no one had ever attempted to communicate with me on my level. If we couldn’t speak via mind-link, they simply didn’t bother trying.

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