35. Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Four

Owen

M y new mate thinks I’m an asshole. I saw it on her face when we met, and I see it again when she tells me she wants me to leave. Guilt swallows me whole as I meet her furious gaze.

I’ve been in a dark mood from the moment we met.

It’s what being in this city does to me. I despise everything about being out here.

Cressidan City is so full of hateful memories that every step I’ve taken has let the residual darkness of it all seep into my body, deeper and deeper, filling me up and corrupting my thoughts like it’s a mental illness.

It wasn’t a good way to be introduced to Lana, and if I can’t find a way past what this place does to me, my pack may never forgive me.

Hell, I might never forgive myself.

So, I take a breath, and I try to explain, at least a little, and apologize.

ASL became second nature to me as a child with a deaf grandfather, and my cousins always used it so we could talk silently behind our parents’ backs, so I start signing without thinking about who I’m communicating with.

The shock in her expression is followed by a response in ASL.

Holy shit! She can sign.

Despite my initial surprise, it doesn’t shock me.

She’s a true mate, after all. We’re bound to have talents in common, things that will make it easier for our bond to grow stronger.

The silence feels more comfortable now.

Her animosity vanishes.

My mood improves.

But when she asks me why I’m here, doing this, and I respond with my hands, it’s obvious there are at least a couple of words she doesn’t know in ASL.

True mate.

I don’t enlighten her. It’s probably for the best that she doesn’t hear that news from me.

My pack might have been waiting for me to get here to talk to her about it, but Ezra’s the one who has the deepest connection with her. He should be the one to tell her.

Not me, the irritable stranger she doesn’t much like.

At least now it feels like she trusts me a little.

She climbs into the small bed, slipping under the covers, and virtually disappearing from sight.

The small lamp on the dresser at the foot of the bed is still on, and I don’t move to turn it off. This is her room, and I don’t know enough about her to make a decision on anything that doesn’t involve directly protecting her from a threat.

All I’m here to do is make sure she isn’t harmed.

So, I stand guard by the side of the door, and I watch the covers rise and fall with every slow, steady breath that she takes.