CHAPTER FIVE

Rosie’s POV

Uncle stiffened at my harsh words as they reverberated through the room. His face was pained. 

The frustration and Wolfsip was making my face hot, and Mia complained within me. 'That was a terrible thing to say. He raised you.'

I shook my head at her words. I wasn't about to say I was sorry because it had been a long time coming. It wasn't just about his denial of the mating bond. It was about the fact that he never intended to let me live my own life or make my own choices.

I stared at him, waiting for him to recover enough to respond. I needed him to face this-to face me. 

"Is Tyler the mate you’ve chosen?"

The question caught me off guard—especially coming from him, at this moment.

“That’s none of your business,” I snapped, matching the sharp edge in his voice. If he wanted to play cold, I could play colder.

But then his eyes shifted, that familiar stormy glow bleeding through—his wolf, Saint, rising to the surface.

"That's not true," he growled, his voice layered with something raw. "You are mine!"

My breath caught. His wolf felt it too—felt the bond. Then why was he fighting it?

I closed the distance between us, slowly, deliberately. My fingers brushed along the curve of his jaw, the tension in his sculpted face tightening under my touch. “Why?” I murmured.

When he didn’t answer, I felt Mia stir inside me, her demand overlapping mine—sharp and pleading. “Why? Just say it.”

Still, he said nothing. But his silence wasn’t empty—it trembled with everything he refused to admit.

I leaned in, so close my lips almost brushed his ear. My voice dropped to a whisper.

"Is it because I’m your mate?"

Had I just dared to say that? But there it was, hanging between us. It was his move now.

His body had frozen under my touch. He must feel the bond. 

His hands clasped at my shoulders, and for a moment, I thought he might give in and admit it. My eyes closed involuntarily. Mia was full of anticipation, fluttering inside of me.

I was sorely disappointed as he shoved me away instead of what I wanted him to do. "You're not thinking clearly."

I shook my head, wrapping my arms around him in a pitiful and desperate hug. I couldn’t let it go so easily. "Please, please stop denying this. I know you’re my mate. You know it too!"

He resigned to a hug, but it was too soft. His shoulders shrugged like he was disappointed. "I am your guardian, kiddo. That is all. I made a promise to your late father to take care of you. And, I’m not your mate…"

I couldn't believe what he was saying. I had felt it then. I didn’t understand how it was so easy for him to pretend to feel nothing. And Saint just admitted it too!

Was he just caught up in being a father figure to me? In me being his ward?

“Please, I don’t want to be your daughter or your ward anymore.”

I needed him to snap out of it. 

Fueled by Wolfsip still coursing through my blood, I backed away a step, and I grabbed my shirt, pulling it over my head in one slow motion. If he insisted on staying in my room to scold me and push me away, then he was going to get a show. 

His face was a mixture of frustration, panic, and the will of his wolf as his eyes flashed again.

“Uncle… I want to be your mate,” I said as seductively as I could manage.

His breath caught, and still he didn’t move. That was all the permission I needed.

I’d never dared to be this bold before. But with Wolfsip warming my veins, I spoke what I felt—openly, recklessly. Maybe it was one of its side effects. Maybe I’d regret it all tomorrow. But right now, I didn’t care.

 "Does this really do nothing for you?" I asked, voice laced with challenge.

I slid out of my skirt, wiggling my hips as it slipped down my body. I caught how his fists bunched, causing his knuckles to go white. He rubbed those fists against his thighs, and I trailed my eyes up and down him. 

He looked hotter than ever. Something about him tonight was dangerously magnetic… delicious, even.

“You’re playing with fire,” he growled at me. I only smirked. It just meant that I was getting to him. 

I smirked and stepped closer, closing the distance like a dancer with no music. I dared him with my eyes to reach out and touch me. I wanted him to burn.

“Then let it burn,” I whispered.

I unclasped my bra and let it slide off, tossing it onto the bed like it didn’t matter. “I don’t regret my choices,” I said.

He looked like a man at war—with duty, with instinct, with the beast clawing behind his eyes. He turned, as if trying to escape from my room, but I moved faster—stripping off the last bit of lace and stepping in front of the door, bare, unashamed.

“Look at me,” I said, standing tall. “See me. Not a child. A woman. A mate.”

His hesitation and fire-filled gaze had me reaching for his hand. I guided it to graze my breast as I noted how rapid and hard his breathing was. 

Mia panted inside me, breathless. He feels it too.

In a flash, he grabbed me, whirling me around with a roughness that had me sizzling. Then, he pinned me onto my bed, then slid lower, fingers tracing fire down my skin... Every inch he touched came alive, pulsing with the pull of something ancient, primal. 

His eyes were glowing—wild. Saint was close. Too close.

I arched under him, breathless, trembling, but unflinching. My fingers curled behind his neck as I pulled him closer, lips grazing him.

“Don’t you want to mark me?” I whispered, voice shaking with fire. “You said I was yours…”

His jaw clenched. A low growl rumbled.

Then his lips crushed against my neck—right where the mark should be.