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All my energy was focused on him. My mate.
The demon who wouldn’t so much as look at me.
I wasn’t scared. I’d look at him, alright. I’d memorise every line of him. How the sun caught on the gold in his hair. The shadows under his eyes. The tattoo poking out from under his right sleeve. How his right arm drifted over the wicked blade at his side.
I gobbled up every detail, trying to figure out why this man was meant to be mine. He was nothing like Lyle.
Well, I guessed they had one thing in common. Neither of them wanted me.
I memorised everything about him, knowing this was likely the only opportunity I’d have to do so. It was as clear as fucking day that he was going to take off as soon as we were done. That he was going to run far away, just so he didn’t have to face this.
Face me.
I fucking hated him. I did. He knew nothing about me. Nothing. Yet, somehow, he’d decided he knew better than fate.
If that was how he felt, then fine. Fuck him. I didn’t need that attitude in my life. Been there, done that, got the broken heart to show for it.
It was only when they crossed our wards that I dragged my gaze from him. I’d seen enough now.
Jeremiah was nothing more than an idea of what might’ve been. A concept to live in my memories. Nowhere else. I wouldn’t let this knowledge taunt me. I wouldn’t let it keep me up at night.
He wasn’t worth it. If he thought so little of being my mate that he didn’t even want to introduce himself, he wasn’t worthy of me. Of my energy. Certainly not my heart.
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