His Daddy’s Fated Mate

24: Pookie

Liam’s POV

Watching Hannah, I can see the toll the day has taken on her. Her delicate fingers move slowly, wiping away the evidence of her tears, the remnants of an emotional storm that’s clearly left her drained. Her eyes swollen, red, brimming with sadness tell a story I already know too well. A story I caused.

For a moment, guilt flares within me, uninvited and unwelcome. Regret? No. It’s not regret. Why should I feel remorse for someone I’ve already decided to cast aside? She’s temporary a fleeting presence in the larger scheme of my life. I was clear with her from the start, wasn’t I? This arrangement has an expiration date.

But as I stand here, watching her struggle to pull herself together, I feel a weight. A shadow of doubt. A pull I can’t fully shake. And yet, it makes no sense.

When she finally looks up at me, those doe-like eyes hit me harder than I care to admit. They always have ever since she was that girl running to me with scraped knees and injured elbows, looking for comfort only I could give. My throat tightens. How could I not have known? The girl I watched grow up, the one I’ve protected for years, is my soulmate?

Was that why she left when Jane was alive? Was it fate’s cruel way of delaying the inevitable, keeping us apart until it was the right time? Nothing else makes sense.

“Now that you’re done crying,” I say, stepping back to put some distance between us distance I desperately need, “let’s have dinner. You’ll need your strength for tomorrow.”

Her brows pull together, and she shakes her head. “I’m not hungry. I’ll just go to bed. Goodnight.”

She turns toward the stairs, but instinct takes over. Before I can stop myself, my hand reaches out and grabs her elbow. The contact jolts me like I’ve touched a live wire. Her skin, warm against my palm, sends sparks up my arm. I freeze, holding on for a second too long, trying to process the intensity of it.

I’ve never felt this with Jane. Not once. This is…different. Raw.

The moment ends as abruptly as it began. I release her elbow like it burned me. She turns, her expression a mix of surprise and caution, but there’s no sign she felt it too. Just questions in her eyes.

“Why did you stop me?” she asks, her voice flat, her gaze skeptical.

I clear my throat, forcing myself to regain control. “You’re going to eat before you go to bed. You haven’t had anything since breakfast. Don’t argue with me.”

The tension lingers as we walk to the dining room. She follows, her reluctance visible in the set of her shoulders. The air between us is heavy charged with something unspoken, something I’m not ready to face.

She doesn’t say much, but her eyes… They’re guarded now, filled with a mistrust that wasn’t there before. And maybe she’s right to feel that way. After all, I’m the one who ruined this.

I lead her through the grand corridors of the mansion, the silence amplifying every thought in my head. I wish I could read her mind, but maybe it’s better this way. I’ve already made my decision she’ll leave, just as I promised. It’s safer if we stay strangers. I can’t let this bond unravel me.

“I’m really not hungry,” she says quietly, her voice edged with impatience. “Can we make this quick?”

I glance back, catching the frustration in her expression. Her tone is restrained, but the meaning is clear: she wants to be anywhere but here.

“Hannah, skipping meals isn’t going to help. You’ll need your strength tomorrow. You’ll be working harder than anyone else as my personal maid. I trust you know what that entails?”

Her eyes narrow, her lips pressing into a thin line. I see the conflict in her gaze indignation, confusion, and, of course, bitterness.

“Don’t lecture me, Alpha Liam,” she snaps. “I’ll figure it out. It can’t be harder than dealing with you.” She forces a smile, one dripping with sarcasm, but it cuts deeper than I want to admit.

Her words hit harder than they should, but it’s the way she says my name cold, devoid of warmth that lingers. She used to say it so differently. Now, it’s just a reminder of everything I’ve broken.

“Stop it,” I mutter under my breath, trying to shake off the guilt threatening to surface.

We reach the dining room, the maids already hovering, waiting to serve. The table is laden with food mostly meats, the kind I usually prefer. The sight feels out of place after everything.

Hannah hesitates when they place a plate in front of her, her stomach giving her away despite her earlier protest. Her cheeks flush when our eyes meet.

The silence at the table is oppressive. I steal glances at her, but she keeps her focus on her plate, refusing to meet my gaze. The memory of that accidental touch earlier lingers, a reminder of something I’m not ready to name.

“This isn’t a lecture, pookie,” I say suddenly, the old nickname slipping out before I can stop it. Her head snaps up, and I clench my jaw, silently cursing myself.

She sighs, shaking her head. “I just want to forget today. Can we eat in silence?”

Her voice is soft, but the edge is there, a shield against whatever she thinks I might say next.

“Fine,” I said shortly. “Eat and leave.”

The clink of cutlery fills the room, the only sound in the heavy silence. I watch her out of the corner of my eye, wondering if this is how it will always be between us strained, silent, broken.

Is this what the Moon Goddess intended? A cruel joke, tying me to someone I can never truly have?

I don’t know. But as the weight of the bond presses down on me, I know one thing for certain: this is only the beginning.