DANTE’S POV
Every time I met with Selene, I ended up needing time alone afterward. Time to breathe. Time to remind myself why wanting her wanting this bond was a catastrophic mistake. The girl loved to press my buttons. Half the time, I wasn’t sure if she did it intentionally or if she was simply reckless, but the effect was the same: she pushed, provoked, and challenged me as if she believed that irritating me would make me cave and accept her.
And the worst part? Everyone in the fortress could see it the way she looked at me, the way her hope clung to her like a second skin. The way she wanted me to accept her. To admit something. To choose her. But I was never going to admit anything, least of all that I felt something for her. Because admitting that would be admitting weakness. An
