Chapter 45

Celia

A gasp flies from my lips and I draw my hands away from Soren’s touch. His warmth leaves my skin, leaving me feel cold. I look away, my cheeks immediately heating up from a small blush.

Is this it? Are we finally going to talks about the elephant in the room about us being fated mates?

I do not think that this is a conversation that I want to have right now. My body is in pain and I have just had the crown and title of princess thrust onto my head. There are people who wish to have be harmed, or killed for that matter, and want nothing but the worst to happen to me.

A conversation with Soren about us being fated mates is the least of my worries. It is one that can wait until all of the anger and confusion and chaos has disappeared from our lives. Only then will I be ready to speak with him about our fated mate connection with one another.

“Are we, though?” I begin to ponder the hypothetical situation of us not being fated mates aloud. “I mean, my Lycan heritage allows me to help heal people. Maybe that is why your headaches have ceased to exist!”

“Celia,” Soren speaks in a deadpan tone. I do not give in, though, and continue to speak over him.

“I was able to heal your mother, which I am so grateful for having the chance to be able to do,” I look away and stare at new places inside the villa that I have never noticed before. “Just because I can heal people through my Lycan heritage does not mean that we are mates. Come on, Soren, be realistic.”

I can’t help but laugh. Laugh at myself and the reasoning behind me trying so hard to deny something that is rooted in our nature and inner wolves. Who am I to deny fate itself? A damned fool, I guess.

“Celia,” Soren sighs and grabs my hands once again. He draws my attention back to him and raises an eyebrow. “Are you done?”

“I can be,” I speak before thinking, “if it is what my Alpha King requests of me.”

“Your Alpha King,” Soren scoffs and looks back down at out hands.

There is a hint of disappointment behind his gaze. It makes my heart ache more than it should. I can’t decipher, though, why his expression hardens, why his once warm demeanor has suddenly changed within a matter of seconds.

“Celia,” my name has lost all of its warmth on his tongue, “is a life with me really something that you do not wish to have?”

“Soren,” I let out a breathy chuckle, unsure how to answer his question.

Soren tilts his face up to look at me. There are heavy and dark eye bags under his eyes, sunken into his skull as if he has not slept for days on end. His hair is a mess, the locks slightly greasy and frizzy at the same time.

“You’re tired,” I begin, slowly drawing in a deep breath, “we should not talk about it right now. You need to get some sleep and rest up.”

“Don’t, Celia,” he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Do not ignore the question.”

“I need to think about it, Soren,” I breathe out, turning away.

My eyes sting and I can feel the tears begin to form in my eyes. I look at anything but him, the reminders of his presence everywhere in the villa, leaving me with no refuge to look at except for the blankets that are draped over my body.

I grab the corner and pick at it, peeling away at the loose strings from the wear and tear of the material. The soft fabric grounds me and helps me keep my feet on the ground.

What would my life with Soren look like now that we know that we are fated mates?

Would he be one to forget about our past, wanting to start new? Or will the scars from our countless arguments remain on our skin as a constant reminder of the bloodshed we put each other through.

How can I forget about the times he dismissed me when Bianca came? How he pushed me to the side as soon as someone with higher rank and nobility became an option for him?

In his own words, I was a backup. A substitute for higher until his true love came along. Now that she turned out to be a bloodthirsty, jealous person, why does he gets to think that he and I will have a chance together?

“Soren, our past,” I suck in a breath, trying to collect my words before I begin to spew them out, unable to stop once I have started. “Our past has scarred me. I do not know if I will be able to look past it and the things that we have said to each other.”

“Celia, I want you to know that I was blinded by Bianca,” Soren is quick to respond. “I was blinded by the love I had for her as a kid and I let myself believe that it was the best path for me. I can now see that it was an error in my judgment and regardless of what path you decide to move down, I will try my best to show you just how sorry I am.”

When our eyes meet, I see that his eyes are as strained as mine. I shudder at the sight and gnaw at the inside of my cheek. The wound on my stomach aches, throbbing underneath the layers of gauze and medical tape.

The pain is a good distraction from the truth that rings inside my mind, of the circumstances that I am forced to face.

“It feels like you only want me now that your life has blown up,” I avoid his gaze, stepping around the real reason behind my hesitation.

“Say it, Celia,” Soren whispers.

I guess he knows me as well as I know him after our contracted relationship. Five years in close proximity with one another has forced us to get to know each other on a deeper level than we ever intended to.

“You only wish to have me, to marry me, now that I am a Lycan princess. The circumstances have changed whether you have realized it yet or not,” I turn and look at him with a hardened gaze. “You were going to marry Bianca, a Lycan noble, to make your pack stronger. Now that I am here, the missing Lycan princess, someone you once thought to be of lower rank, someone you so easily discarded, you are trying to make up for the fact that you have hurt me.”

“Celia, please, it was hard for me to make those decisions,” the words fly from Soren’s mouth as if they are his last words on earth.

“And yet you still made them,” I try to suppress the bitterness in my voice, the underlying resentment that I hold towards him.

An ugly silence falls between us. I look away and find solace in the painting of the forest on the wall while he shifts in the chair beside me. I release the inside of my cheek and clear my throat.

“If I were to even think about this,” I begin, “I will need time to think. It’s my life too. I deserve to have a say.”