Chapter Eight

THE BOND DENIED

(Theodore Black's Pov)

Her eyes flashed open, their shock as bright as the first rays of morning fighting their way through the night. Camille's lips parted slightly, trembling with a mix of confusion and anger as she jerked away from me, her chest heaving with indignation.

"Who are you?" she demanded, her voice shriller than I would have expected from a girl who had just been asleep. "Why are you in my room?"

I sat back in the chair that I pulled up close to her bedside and let her words wash over me without reaction. Her anger was a fire in the small room, but it didn't burn me, it only made her glow brighter. She looked beautiful, even with her voice raised, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes sparkling with fury.

"Camelia," I cut her off, voice low and sharp, the command cutting through her anger like a blade. She froze at the sound of my name on her lips, bolting upright with surprise. In a split second, it was gone, and just as fast, her glare returned.

"You just woke up," I continued, softer this time, but firm. "Stop straining yourself."

A mocking twist of her lips was all the warning he got before she straightened further, tautening the material over her lap in her fist. "And why should that matter to you?!" she returned with vitriol. "Who are you to tell me what to do? Answer my question! Why are you here?"

I couldn't help it. A faint smile tugged at my lips behind the mask. Even weak and disoriented, she was as stubborn as ever. I leaned marginally forward, my eyes locked with hers as I spoke. "You shall have your answers," I said smoothly, "but not like this.”

An infinitesimal frown furrowed her brow, and then, before she could say more, I leaned into the damper and my hand reached out for the cradle of her cheek. Her breath hitched at the contact, and I thought I saw a flicker of something flashback in her eyes.

Not enough.

I pressed her with my lips, closing the distance between us.

A Strong Awakening

It was the kiss that was supposed to silence her reminding her of that one connection she refused to acknowledge existed between us. My lips moved purposefully against hers, driven by frustration and need.

First, she was frozen solid, unmoving. Then, much too slowly, she came back. It was a faint spark waiting to be kindled, but it was there. My wolf growled his pleasure; the bond between us humming faintly in the back of my mind.

Then abruptly, she recoiled, her hand raising with violence.

I had seen it coming and shifted slightly so that her palm landed against my arm and not my face. The slap was weak-she was still recovering-but the fire in her eyes burned just as bright.

"How dare you!" she spat, her voice trembling with rage.

I said nothing. I only watched her as visibly she fought for composure. Her breaths were haggard spurts; her chest rising and falling wildly while with a glare in her eyes, she stared at me. The flush of anger was colored over her features, but beyond it, another quality seeped through: confusion, even curiosity.

"Are you done?" I asked calmly, my lips curling into a faint smile.

Her fists were clenched at her sides, and for a moment, she looked ready to launch another attack. But then she seemed to catch herself, her shoulders slumping slightly as she narrowed her eyes at me.

"Who are you?" she demanded again, her voice low but laced with fury.

"Theodore Black," I said simply, leaning back in my chair.

She reacted in a split second. Her eyes went fractionally wider, the anger in her features melting into shock. "Theodore Black?" she echoed with a disbelieving tone. "The billionaire? The one who-"

"Always wears a mask?" I completed for her, the feeble smile still playing on my lips. "Yes, that would be me.”

She stared at me in one disbelieving and accusing moment. "What do you think you're doing in my room?" she finally flung at me, her tone sharp. "And how did you get inside, anyway?"

I laughed again in a low sound, rich in the quietness of the room. "Your grandfather gave me permission," I explained so easily.

Her expression darkened at the mention of Alpha Vamos, but she didn't press the point. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest, fixing me with a glare. "That still doesn't explain why you're here," she said. "Or why do you think it's acceptable to act like… like…"

"A hooligan?" I suggested, my voice teasing.

Her cheeks went an even deeper red, and she looked away clearly flustered. "Yes," she muttered without looking in my direction.

I leaned forward again, resting my elbows on my knees as I studied her. "You don't remember me, do you?" I asked low.

She frowned, looking quite perplexed. "Should I?”

It was a question that shouldn't sting, but it did. I'd spent months searching for her, unable to forget her face, her touch, her scent. And yet, here she was, looking at me as though I were a stranger.

I let out a quiet sigh and leaned back in my chair. "Months ago," I said, my voice steady despite my churning stomach. "At a hotel. You and I… spent some time together."

She reacted instantly. Her body tensed, her eyes wide with shock before narrowing into anger. "You mean…"

"Yes," I said, cutting her off.

Her face first went pale, then red, and then pale again as my words slowly digested within her. "That was," she shook her head and let her voice shake with anger and shame. "That was an error in judgment. A once-off."

My wolf protested this indignantly, but I made myself calm down. "A mistake?" I asked again, this time much cooler.

"Yes," she said with finality, though the clenching of her fists belied this. "It meant nothing, and it's best if we only forget it happened altogether."

The words made something like anger flicker for a moment in me, but that passed quickly enough; she was lying to me, and herself, from what I saw in the flick of her gaze and tenseness of her shoulders.

"Forget it?" I said, and my voice was deceptively calm. "You believe I would spend months searching for you, and it meant nothing?" The look in her eyes was slight, and in the depths of them, the fire flickered once more. "Why?" she whispered, barely audible. "Why would you look for

me?" Because you're my mate, I said frank words weighted with so much veracity.