Page 14 of Sold Rejected Mate
Maybe Lachlan is only being nice to me because he doesn’t know who I am. The last time I talked to him, the last time he looked me in the face, he made it perfectly clear that he wanted absolutely nothing to do with me.
And that is the fact that sticks in my mind as I force myself through this pain, force my leg to carry me to the end of the hallway, even as my knee threatens to buckle under me, to collapse my entire body to the floor.
Black spots dance around the edge of my vision, and my breaths come sharper, faster. I’m not even letting myself think about that sleek black fence around his property—I’ll have to figure that out when I get to it.
Maybe when I get there, if I reach for my magic, I can figure out a way for it to let me through.
A memory resurfaces from high school—that first day in the club. Joining with the other girls, watching Phina as she made a butterfly from nothing but her magic, watching it dance and float through the air, leaving sparkles behind like fairy dust.
I’ve never been able to use magic like her, been able to control it that well. I struggle with the orchestration of it, with getting it to do what I want rather than turning on me and making every situation worse than when I started.
Just like that day.
I force the memories out of my head as I near the front door, heart pounding, each breath like swallowing sandpaper. I’m not even through the front door yet, and I’m already killing for a glass of water. Just a little sip.
And it’s just three feet from the door that my leg gives out on me. I’m not expecting it, and I hit the ground hard, teeth clacking together with the impact.
It hurts, but worse than that is the frustration, and I let out a strangled cry without meaning to. It tears from my throat like I’m some sort of wounded animal.
I give myself five seconds to wallow in this situation before trying to sit up, trying to inch my way toward the door on the ground. I have no idea when Lachlan is coming back, or what I’m going to do once I’m on the other side of the door, but I havethis feeling that if I can just cross that threshold, I’ll be able to figure everything else out.
And then I hear his footsteps.
“Oh, shit,” he says, moving faster, and my heart matches the pace. “Green? Where did you go?”
Green?
It’s hopeless. I’m never going to make it to the door, so I just roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling as he comes around the corner, breathing hard.
“Gods, Green, what the hell are you doing?”
He moves forward and crouches down next to me, his hands fluttering over my torso like he might use healing magic to make it all better.
Gods, how I wish he could.
I close my eyes so I don’t have to look at him, and a tear runs from my eye, trailing down my face and into my hairline. Things have been bad since I left Silverville, but I have never in my life felt more defeated than I do right now, lying here on his perfect wood floor, trembling with frustration.
“Hey,” he says, voice soft—as soft as I remember it from before—his scent washing over me. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m on your side.”
I can’t say a thing. Can’t tell himno, you’re not.
When I shake my head, it makes the room start to spin, even though my eyes aren’t open to see it happen. I feel like a passenger below deck on a ship, helpless to do anything but roll and pitch with the crashing waves around me.
My body moves without my input, and I start to inch my way toward the door again. It is so pathetic that it only makes me cry harder, my head throbbing in time with each labored breath.
“Green, stop,” Lachlan says, scooting in front of me, taking my wrists in his. The current of energy that runs through me at his touch isalmostenough to vanish the headache. Almost. I pull my hands back as he says, “You can barely stand. Where do you think you’re going to go?”
He’s right. I’ve gotten by with no money, no friends, no car. But I’ve never managed without the use of my body. I have no idea how to cope without that.
Slowly, carefully, Lachlan slides his hands under me, and the tender way he handles me just makes me cry harder, eyes shut, hot tears soaking the hair around my temples.
Because he’s being kind to me now. He’s being gentle with me now. But when he realizes who I am—and the damage that I caused back when we were kids—he’s not going to be quite so caring.
And I’m not sure I can stand to face rejection from him a second time.
Chapter 8 - Lachlan
Green wants nothing to do with me.
