The beast and the blessed novel by Ashley Breanne novel Chapter 181

Five: Charlie

Charlie’s p.o.v.

My lips were damp from licking them, and his warm breath blew across them like a silent siren song, begging me to give it to the source and let him devour me. I expected a smile, maybe even a kiss. Any reaction telling me he was happy about the news would have been welcomed.

Instead, he shook his head, his eyebrows pulling together as he loosened his hold on me.

That wasn't supposed to happen. He should want to hold me close, smile, and maybe even mark me.

My stomach turned to concrete as he pulled his arms away entirely. My dagger dropped to the ground from his loose hold on it, the blade embedding itself into the moist soil.

His body heat leaving me as he stepped back felt like I had just walked outside into a blizzard as all my fears surfaced. I spun around, not wanting to let him run out of my sight this time. He had escaped from me too many times before. We needed to have this conversation, even though I was terrified of what might be said.

My smile fell when I saw the horrified look on his face. The whites of his eyes were bright in contrast to the black irises, and I hated that as he let them roam over my body, I felt inadequate. He looked bothered by what he saw as his gaze returned to my face.

I wasn't what he had expected from the Goddess... that much was clear.

"No."

That single word made me wish the ground would open up and swallow me whole. The heat behind my eyes began building rapidly, and I knew tears would come next if I didn't do something.

"No?" My echo seemed to amuse him as his lip twitched, but I didn't find this funny. "You carry half of my soul, and your response is just no?"

He tilted his head to the side, a heavy focus taking over his expression as the tears I had been fighting back filled my eyes anyway. "I don't have a mate." "You might not have known you had one before, but you do now." My voice cracked, and I couldn't even find it within myself to be embarrassed.

"Bears don't have mates." He repeated, his eyes locked on me with unashamed pity. He didn’t know me, but how could he be so casual about ripping my heart out?

My chest felt heavy, and my spit thickened as I felt the dam about to burst. "Just because you don't feel the mate bond doesn't mean you don't have a mate."

I felt it. I felt it enough for both of us and if he would let me, I would love him with everything I had, even after my last breath. Was it how I looked? Was he not attracted to me? Was it because I was the Princess? Did he even know who I was?

"I'm sorry, Charlotte." It came out so formal as he stepped back, and my lungs shuddered with each pull of air.

It was almost instinct to correct him, to tell him to call me Charlie. But that was what my friends and family called me. The people and the court members all referred to me as Princess Charlotte. He may be my mate, but he was a stranger. A stranger that was holding my heart in his hands and squeezing it in his fist without a care in the world.

"So, that's it? Are you just going to reject our mate bond? Aren't you even going to give me a chance? I don't even know your name!" My hands flew to my chest before gesturing toward him in anger. Talking with my hands was a bad habit I had when I got worked up. My etiquette instructor had tried to break me of it, training me to remain calm, composed, and emotionless even when I was dying inside. They would be so disappointed in me right now. Everyone always was.

Most of the time, I succeeded in keeping my mask of indifference in place. Killian had been the only one I had ever shown my emotions around, and even then, I tried not to. He had higher standards for his heir than some emotional girl.

Killian never said it in those words exactly, but that was how he made me feel everytime he did scold me.

"I'm not... that's...." He shook his head, his mask cracking as the first tear slipped over my lid and down my cheek. He looked startled and a little scared at seeing it.

My heel snagged on a rock sticking half out of the ground, and I stumbled. He rushed forward, his hands raising toward me to steady me, but I caught myself and flinched away from him.

"Charlotte," he said but stopped when he met my stare again.

I couldn't stand to be touched by him again, not when I was about to lose him forever. The fewer physical interactions we had, the better. I couldn't have him keep touching me when he would reject me. It would make it more difficult for me than it had to be.

"Don't," I warned, my tears stopping as I glared at him. He held his hands up as I took a deep breath.

My anger allowed me to collect myself, and I schooled my emotions, just as I had been raised to do.

There was no need to embarrass myself any more than I already had.