Dawson
I fumed quietly in my office, trying and failing to read the paperwork Mark had sent over. My eyes reread the same sentence for the third time, and I gave up, letting the papers fall back on my desk.
My chest ached. After I had stormed away from the table, leaving my mate to scramble after me, I had not said one single word to her the entire drive back. She had tried. She whispered my name in the dark, but I wouldn’t look at her. I felt her warm cinnamon essence brush against my mind, but I refused to let her in. I could feel the regret and sadness pouring out of her, but I was aware of her power now and I resisted the urge to break down, to forgive.
She had gone too far. How dare she compare me to the monsters that had murdered my father
