Chapter 4: What Kind Of Fool Rejects His Own Mate?

Gianna's POV 

I barely slept that night.

The bed was the softest thing I had ever touched in my life. The sheets smelled like lavender and something clean and expensive, and the pillows were so thick I practically sank into them. But every time I closed my eyes, Marco's voice came back to me, cold and final, ripping through the darkness behind my eyelids.

"You were always a curse."

I pressed my face into the pillow and tried to breathe.

By the time the morning light started creeping through the floor to ceiling windows, I had given up on sleep entirely. I washed my face, pulled on the oversized shirt and sweatpants someone had left folded on the armchair, and padded barefoot into the main sitting room.

He was already there.

Dante sat in the leather armchair near the window, one leg crossed casually over the other, a glass of something dark resting in his hand. The early morning sunlight caught his jaw, his cheekbones, the sharp line of his nose. He looked like he had been carved from stone and then brought to life by something ancient and dangerous.

His violet eyes found me the moment I stepped into the room.

"Good morning." His voice was calm, unhurried, like a man who had all the time in the world and knew exactly how to use it. "Sleep well?"

"Like a rock," I lied.

His lips twitched. "Your eyes say otherwise."

I looked away, folding my arms across my chest. "I'm not used to sleeping in strange places."

"Strange?" He tilted his head, a hint of mock offense in his expression. "This suite costs more per night than most people earn in a month. I'd call that generous, not strange."

"I didn't ask for it."

"No," he agreed, his voice dropping just a little. "You asked me to save your life. I just added room service."

The way he said it, so casual, so matter of fact, like pulling a terrified stranger off a hotel lobby floor was something he did every Tuesday, made something in my chest tighten.

I walked to the window and looked out over the city. San Ravenswood stretched below us in a maze of glass and steel, and for a moment, I let myself pretend I was just a normal woman in a nice hotel, instead of a pregnant, packless omega with a death warrant on her head.

"I need to ask you something." His voice came from behind me, closer than I expected.

I turned around and found him standing barely three feet away. I hadn't heard him move.

"The man who did this to you," he continued, his eyes locked on mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. "The one you were running from. Is he your mate?"

My heart slammed against my ribs. The word "mate" hit me like a punch to the chest, and all the pain I had been trying to bury since last night came flooding back in a single, crushing wave.

I thought about lying. I thought about making up some story about a stalker or an abusive ex or some vague danger that had nothing to do with pack bonds and wolf politics.

But something in his eyes stopped me. The way he watched me, patient and unblinking, told me he already knew more than he was letting on. Lying to this man wasn't just risky. It was pointless.

"It was a mistake," I whispered, forcing myself to hold his gaze even though my voice was shaking. "A bond from my past that is completely over. He... he rejected me, and I accepted it. I am free of him."

The words left my mouth, and the pain came with them, sharp and raw, like pressing on a fresh wound. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from breaking down.

Dante's jaw clenched. Something dark and dangerous moved behind his violet eyes, and for a terrifying moment, the air in the room felt heavier, thicker, like the atmosphere before a storm breaks.

"He rejected you." His voice was barely above a whisper, but the fury underneath it was so intense I could feel it vibrating in the space between us. "What kind of fool rejects his own mate?"

"The kind who found someone better." I tried to say it lightly, like it didn't matter, but my voice cracked on the last word and gave me away completely.

His expression shifted. The anger didn't disappear, but something else joined it, something that looked almost like pain on my behalf, like my hurt had somehow become his.

"There is no one better," he said quietly, and the certainty in his voice stunned me into silence.

I stared at him. My lips parted, but nothing came out.

He took a step closer, and the distance between us shrank to almost nothing. I could smell his cologne now, warm and dark and intoxicating, and the heat coming off his body felt like standing near a fire on a cold night.

"What's his name?" Dante's voice was low, controlled, but underneath it, I could hear something that sounded like a promise. A dangerous one.

"Why does it matter?" I took a small step back, my shoulders pressing against the cool glass of the window. "It's over. The bond is broken. He doesn't want me."

"That's not what I asked." He didn't follow me, but his eyes held me in place more firmly than any hand could. "I asked for his name."

"I'm not telling you that." My voice came out steadier than I felt. "You'll go after him."

Something shifted in his expression. The corner of his mouth curved upward, not a smile exactly, but something darker. Something that told me I had just confirmed everything he suspected.

"Smart girl," he murmured.

The way he said it, low and warm with just a hint of something predatory, sent heat crawling up the back of my neck.

"I should leave," I managed, though my feet didn't move. "I've already imposed on you enough. If you just point me toward the nearest shelter, I'll..."

"You're not going to a shelter." His tone was final, the kind of voice that expected to be obeyed without question.

"You can't just decide that."

"I already did."

I opened my mouth to argue, but the look on his face stopped me cold. There was no cruelty in it, no manipulation, no agenda I could identify. Just a quiet, immovable certainty that he was not going to let me walk out that door.

The realization that another wolf had touched her, and then foolishly cast her aside, ignited a dark, possessive fury deep within his chest, though he kept his intense focus locked entirely on me.

And standing there, pinned between the window and his violet gaze, I understood something that both terrified me and filled me with a warmth I hadn't felt in years.

This man, whoever he was, had no intention of letting me go.