She nodded slowly.
I pulled off my jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. She looked so small in it, as always.
I guided her to the car I’d nearly destroyed trying to reach her. Neither of us spoke during the drive back. The silence between us wasn’t heavy, it was dense. I glanced at her more times than I should’ve, just to make sure she was still there.
Her fingers were curled tightly in her lap.
The palace gate loomed ahead under the dark sky. It swung open as I approached, and I followed the long, winding trail that led to the palace.
The silence continued as I parked and we made our way up the staircase and stepped into the private elevator.
I looked down at her. She looked everywhere but me.
When the doors opened to our floor, I led her to our room.
The door closed behind us with a soft click.
She stood in the middle of the room, still wrapped in my jacket.
Lupercus and Hasmik were in the room, probably trying to be supportive, but I didn’t care. I barely acknowledged them as I kept my gaze fixed on Narine. She looked exhausted, and disheveled.
I stepped closer.
“Why, Narine?” I inquired softly. “Why did you run? Do you have any idea what you put me through?”
She blinked. “I didn’t ask you to worry about me,” she snapped, lifting her chin. “I’m not a child, Sargis. You can’t keep me locked in here like a prisoner.”
“I wasn’t keeping you here,” I bit out, barely containing the storm inside. “I was protecting you.”
She laughed. “Protecting me?” she folded her arms tightly across her chest. ” I didn’t ask for your protection or any of this.”
“I’m your mate!” I shouted, my control slipping. “It’s my responsibility to care, to worry-“
“There you go again with that mate bullshit!” she exploded. “I don’t believe in it, Sargis! That whole mystical bond crap you all go on about? I’ve never felt it. Not once. The only thing I’ve ever felt toward you is gratitude.”
The room went still.
Lupercus and Hasmik shifted uneasily behind us.
“Narine…” Hasmik prodded gently.
“No,” Narine snapped. “Let me finish.”
Lupercus cleared his throat. “We shouldn’t be here.”
And without another word, the two quietly stood and left, Lupercus tugged Hasmik gently by the hand, giving me a silent look of warning and sympathy before the door closed behind them.
“I never asked you to save me or dedicate valuable resources to nurse me back to health.” Narine pressed on. ” You did all of that on your own. You took me in, gave me a room, brought me gifts, watched over me like some damn guardian angel, and yes, I was grateful. I am grateful. But that doesn’t mean you get to dictate how I live my life.”
I clenched my fist at my sides. “I never did this because I expected something back.”
“Then stop acting like I owe you something!” she cried. Her throat bobbed as she struggled to keep tears at bay. “You say you’re my mate, but I never felt it, Sargis! No strings pulled at my soul. No magic tethered me to you. I don’t feel it.”
I didn’t move. Couldn’t. My hands trembled at my sides as I stared at her, swallowing down the ache that threatened to crack open my chest.
I nodded slowly, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from saying something I’d regret.
Is that… really what she thought of me?
Just some overbearing warden in a palace she never wanted to be in?
“You’ve been kind, yes, and you say you care for me, Sargis, but caring isn’t suffocating someone. Caring isn’t making decisions for me, and watching me like I’m a ticking bomb, and dragging me into some fate I never chose. That’s control!”
I reeled like I’d been punched in the gut.
“You know what hurts the most?” she went on. “I almost believed you were different. That maybe I could find something good in you. But all this time, I know you’ve just been waiting for me to become something I’m not.”
My vision blurred red.
“Narine…”
“No! Stop trying to twist this!” she yelled. “You think because you gave me a soft bed and fed me and gave me your attention that I owe you my heart? You want to claim me, like some prize you’ve won just because you were the first to be kind. “
I staggered back a step, unable to breathe. My heart was clawing against my chest, demanding I say something, anything but all I could do was stare at her like she’d just torn me in half.
“Fuck, Narine!” I roared, the sound hoarse with anguish. I grabbed a vase off the table and hurled it across the room, it shattered into a thousand sharp pieces against the wall, but it still didn’t quiet the storm in my chest.
“You’re right,” I spat bitterly, the words tearing out of me like glass. “You’re fucking right. I don’t have any right to keep you here. I don’t have the right to hope for something that clearly isn’t there.”
“Fuck,” I rasped again, turning and grabbing the edge of the table like it was the only thing keeping me upright. “You’ve got no idea what it’s like devoting yourself to someone. I stayed up nights wondering if I was doing enough, if I was enough..” My voice broke again, “..but none of it mattered to you, did it?”
She looked away.
“You want to go? Then go. I won’t stop you. I won’t force you. You say you’re not mine, I hear you. All I truly wanted from you was your happiness, and it doesn’t lie in me, then so be it.”
“I set you free,” I whispered. “You don’t owe me anything. Take what you need, clothes, money, whatever. Just… leave before I start begging you to stay. Because if I do, and you still walk away… I don’t know if I’ll recover from that.”
I turned away, unable to face her, because I knew… if I looked at her even one-second longer, I’d fall to my knees and ask her to love me.
“Just go,” I whispered again.
Narine’s POV
I wasn’t prepared for the profound sorrow reflected in his eyes. It wasn’t a volatile kind of pain that erupted into anger or demanded attention, it was a deep, quiet anguish that seemed to seep from his very soul. The weight of it struck me unexpectedly, wrapping around my heart like a heavy cloak, rendering me almost breathless.
There was no anger in his voice when he said he would let me go either. Despite the weight of the moment, there was no trace of anger or resentment in his tone. It was as if he had already accepted the situation, and the realization hit me with an overwhelming heaviness. My heart squeezed tightly in my chest, a painful contraction that felt almost like a physical reprimand, as though it were punishing me for the hurt I had caused.
I never meant to hurt him.
I didn’t throw his kindness back in his face because I believed it was insincere, rather, I did so out of a deep-seated fear that it might actually be genuine. The entire journey back to the palace was fraught with anxiety, a sensation that gripped me tightly. I was haunted by the thought that the warmth and affection he had so freely extended toward me from the moment I opened my eyes in his bed would evaporate the instant the door clicked shut behind us. Each bump in the road echoed my apprehensions, amplifying my dread that this tender connection could be fleeting-a beautiful mirage that would disappear once I faced the reality of our circumstances. That this warmth, safety, and impossible hope would be ripped away the moment we returned to that room. I’d seen that act before, smiles that promised safety, and hands that offered comfort until they didn’t.
So I struck first.
I followed the ingrained instincts that had been embedded in me over years of survival. I had learned to push people away before they could draw me too close, to strike out before I had the chance to be hurt. That relentless instinct within me, fierce and unyielding, became my guiding force, overshadowing everything else. Each kind word Sargis spoke, each selfless act he performed, and every patient smile he offered, free of any demands or expectations, were all drowned out by the noise of my defenses. It felt as if my mind had a checklist, ticking off reasons to retreat and shield myself, even when I knew deep down that his intentions were genuine. The walls I had built around my heart were so high and thick that they obscured the warmth of his presence and the sincerity of his gestures, leaving me isolated in a protective shell that was becoming increasingly difficult to penetrate.
When he extended a gentle hand toward me after my frantic escape attempt, a swirl of emotions erupted within me. His warm eyes, filled with genuine concern, locked onto mine as he approached, quiet yet reassuring. The moment he removed his jacket, and draped it over my shoulders, I felt its weight both literal and metaphorical, covering me like a protective shield, and then asked softly if I was okay. It was a simple gesture, yet it sent my mind into a whirlwind of fear and confusion.
But instead of comfort, panic coursed through my veins. How could someone be so compassionate? It felt like a lie. A painful knot formed in my stomach as I reminded myself that people weren’t like that, and kindness had always masked ulterior motives in my experience. In a desperate instinct to shield myself from what could only be a deception, I pushed him away. I needed to cling to the belief that he was just like the others, untrustworthy and indifferent. It was easier than accepting that perhaps, for once, someone truly cared.
And really, how could a man like Sargis care this deeply for someone like me? The mate bond? But I didn’t feel it.
I didn’t feel some cosmic pull when he looked at me. I didn’t feel an invisible thread tying me to his heart. If anything, all I felt was gratitude.
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