Elara's POV
“Every gift I give you, you thank me like I’m some stranger doing you a favor. You won’t let me buy you things, you won’t let me protect you without arguing, and you act like you don’t…” He trails off, frustration clear in his voice.
“Like I don’t what?”
“Like you don’t belong to me,” he says quietly, releasing my wrist. “Like you don’t have a right to be cared for.”
Surprise makes me drop the bandage I’m about to wrap around his shoulder.
“I—I don’t know how to do that.”
His jaw tightens.
“Then figure it out.”
I resumed my work, but my movements are shaky now.
“I thought I was being grateful. I thought that’s what you wanted.”
“I don’t want your gratitude, Elara. I want your trust.” His free hand comes up to cup my cheek as I bend over his wound. “I want you to stop
