I exhaled sharply. "Shut up and leave."
Silence.
Then, a soft exhale—sharp, almost wounded. But she didn't leave.
Instead, I heard the rustle of fabric, the light tap of her bare feet against the cold marble floor. And then she was beside me, close enough that I could feel the unnatural warmth of her presence.
Her smirk was gone.
"All you have to do is accept me," she whispered, her voice low, desperate. "Your destined mate."
I clenched my jaw, but I didn't look at her.
"That's how it's supposed to be," she continued, her voice trembling with something raw, something fragile. "That's how it should!"
Slowly, I turned to face her.
Her silver eyes burned, shimmering like molten stars. There was something unhinged in them, something teetering on the edge of madness.
I leaned in.
Her breath hitched.
Her pupils dilated, her gaze flickering downward—to my lips.
I nearly laughed.
