He glanced at me for a moment, and his words stung, knowing I was his mate. They were directed at me. They had to be—he only had one mate.
But one thing bothered me. If we didn’t love or respect each other, then why wouldn’t he accept my rejection?
Why would he go crazy over me supposedly flirting with Nate?
Nate cracked a laugh. “So, you’ll just take a thousand mistresses?” He concluded. “I can’t even imagine you truly loving anyone.”
Kylan chuckled. “It’s not that I don’t want to love—but I just don’t think I’m capable of doing so. Those are two different things.”
The box in Kylan’s hand slowly began to change into a dull copper. He released a breath, probably relieved he could finally stop talking.
Everyone had confessed.
“It looks like we did it,” Dylan grabbed the box from Kyla
