Page 155 of Fractured Fates
The hook in my stomach twists deep and relentless as if attempting to scrape out my insides.
I pant through the pain.
I try to make sense of her words.
The world spins dangerously out of control, unconsciousness begging to claim me.
And then he’s there again. The man in black.
He rests his hand on my shoulder and it all melts away. All that pain just vanishes.
It’s more than magic.
What the hell?
I glare at him, tears racing down my cheeks.
“F-f-fated mate?” I stutter.
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The man in black
She staresat me as if she’s seen a ghost, her face deathly pale, tears streaming down her cheeks, her dark hair damp around her temples.
The words slip from her lips again.
Half question. Half accusation.
“Fated mate?”
I close my eyes. My heart thumps in my chest. The hook in my stomach thrums. Her magic flickers against mine.
Fated mate.
Perhaps I’d known it the very first time I caught a whiff of her scent in that shack of her house. Or perhaps it was the very first time I’d laid eyes on her. The first time I’d felt that tug deep in my gut. One I’d never felt before. One I will never feel again.
“Is it true?” she asks when I say nothing.
I take a deep breath in and open my eyes.
The dark pupils of her eyes bloom as her gaze connects with mine.
“Yes,” I say. “Yes, it’s true.”
She shuffles on the bed and regretfully, I remove my palm from her shoulder.
“How do you know?”
I can tell it pains her to ask the question. Her ignorance grates her. She’s a proud little thing.
I place my hand over my stomach. “In my gut.”
She scoffs, shaking her head. “Your gut tells you this.”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying. It’s a sensation in the pit of my stomach, constantly pulling me towards you, straining at me whenever we’re apart.”
What little blood she had remaining in her face, drains before my eyes.
