Divided
It was as if I remembered a story I’d read long ago, tragic, but not personal.
“I see,” Lucas responded as he offered me more tea. “Do you have any questions about being here, with me?”
I thought for a moment, in truth, I was brimming with questions, but I knew many of them would come across as rude or disrespectful. Finally, I asked, “What does it mean to be your mate?”
“Well,” Lucas began. He placed his glass on the table by the untouched food. His eyes darkened as he moved across the couch toward me. I allowed him to take my teacup as he closed the distance between us. “It means that you belong to me.”
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