Savannah’s P.O.V
I reject him.
Or, I try to.
“I, Savannah Collins, reject you-” his hand comes in front of my mouth to stop me from speaking the rest of the sentence, and it pisses me off a lot.
“Shhhh.” His whisper comes next, causing an spontaneous full force punch in the stomach, hitting prosthetic material that isn’t skin and causing him to stumble backwards a couple of metres – still on his feet, but only just. My wolf stands up in guilt and panic, and the same feeling settles in my stomach while shock sets on his face, not expecting that reaction. Maybe he should predict violence from me by now.
Speech starts without me thinking – a bunch of babbling that can only be described as anger, regret and frustration mixed into one.
“I can’t do this – I can’t be a mate to someone who w
