Chapter 51: All I Want Is My Mate

(CORRINE)

Next thing I know, his chest is against my back, and my mouth turns dry. Suddenly, I can see his point of view. This kitchen is indeed too small for him, for the both of us. His hands are now resting against my hips. “See? There’s no space to move around in here. You should get a bigger house. I’ll build you a castle here. With gardens. You like gardens. I haven’t seen any here.”

I can’t think with his hands where they are. He doesn’t seem to be paying much attention to me anymore, distracted by the lamp hanging from the ceiling, but his large hands are still hot against the curve of my hips.

Swallowing, I try to stay calm. “We do have a garden. It’s called a yard.”

“That small space behind the house?” He blinks. “You call that a garden?”

Bristling, I wipe my hands and turn around to glare at him, ready to say something snappish. How dare he insult my home? “It’s not that small. If you don’t like—”

He looks down at me, and suddenly, I can’t speak. He’s too close. His chest is brushing against mine, and I’m reminded of how he used to hold me in bed, the way he liked folding me over furniture to fuck me with his relentless stamina, his cock moving in and out of me in long, deep strokes till I couldn’t even remember my own name.

I hadn’t known sex could be like that. How did I forget that?

With how close he’s standing to me, I can’t help but recall those heated nights. After leaving the North, I never once thought about being with another man. That part of my existence was over, as far as I was concerned. I closed that Chapter of my life and let it gather dust.

I can smell the musky scent in the air, and to my dismay, so can Locke. His nose twitches, and when he focuses his eyes on mine, his voice is a heated growl. “Corrine.”

“Stop saying my name.” It’s not helping. Between that and his hands curling around my waist, the wetness in my panties is spreading.

No.

No, if I do this, if I let him cross this line, it’s over. If he gives me the mating mark, all the choices I have, the ones I can still make, will be ripped from me.

“No.” My voice is weak, but my jaw is hard. “No, Locke.” He freezes.

I can feel his hardness pressing against my stomach through his pants, and a part of me wants to take it in my hands. I want to spread my legs and—

Locke has a strained look in his eyes as he takes a step back from me.

As soon as he does, relief fills me.

I close my eyes briefly, trying to calm myself. When I open them, he’s about to say something, but I hold up my hand. “I really don’t want to hear it. I—I’m going to take another shower.”

As I walk away, he asks, “What about me?”

“You’re not joining me!” I say quickly, and his eyes widen as we exchange a look, clearly both recalling an evening years ago when I was in the shower. I had just lathered myself up when he walked in.

Slippery bodies, his fingers entering places I didn’t know were allowed, such dark, intense pleasure that I still shiver thinking about it. There was no part of my body he didn’t explore with his thick, slicked-up fingers.

“No!” I growl before turning on my heel and storming to my bedroom.

Stripping off the bathrobe, I opt for a cold shower that leaves me shivering. It also has the expected effect of knocking some sense into me.

“What the hell was that?” I mumble to myself as I finally turn off the water. “What was I doing remembering all of—Oh!” My face is a bright red when I see myself in the mirror above the sink.

He had caught my scent. If he hadn’t moved away, if he had touched me, if he had laid his hands on any other part of my body, I would have given in.

I stare at my naked body, stunned. How did I go from loathing him to wanting him to touch me again?

The truth is obvious, no matter how much I try to hide from it. I’ve forgiven him.

Not for what happened to me. I have no reason to be angry with him over that since he was also manipulated. I’ve forgiven him for how he treated me in the beginning.

Is it that easy to forgive someone? My eyes are wet as I reach out to my reflection in the mirror. Is that why I feel so much lighter?

Suddenly, I can see those couple of months I spent with Locke in a new light. Maybe he was a jerk at the start, but he showed me he cared the only way he knew how. And I never saw it or understood those gestures because nobody had ever cared for me before, because I had accepted that he didn’t care for me. All I knew was that I was dependent on him for survival, and therefore, I had to please him.

While all that time, he was trying to please me.

It would be so easy to go back to the kitchen right now and walk straight into his arms.

I want to do it. He cares for me. I could have him. I could be with him.

And then, you would have to give all this up, a small voice whispers in my head. If I sleep with him, he could give me the mating mark. But if he doesn’t…

My heart slams against my rib cage. “I don’t want to lead him on,” I say out loud to my reflection. I don’t want to give him the idea that I want to resume our relationship. I’ve been fine on my own. I don’t mind having him in Finn’s life, but I want to be selfish for once. I don’t want to give up my own life again.

But wouldn’t Finn benefit from having his parents together? Am I being too selfish by wanting to prioritize my own happiness?

The way my heart aches makes me think I am. I run my fingers through my wet hair.

I can’t be impulsive here. There’s a lot at stake.

After pulling on my bathrobe, I rub a towel over my hair as I walk out of the bathroom. Too much has happened tonight. I’ll check on Finn to make sure he’s okay and then head to bed. Some sleep will be good for me. I have to be up early tomorrow to review the materials Erik gave me. And it’s not like anything has to be decided tonight anyway. It has been a long day, and things between Locke and me have been sorted out. Or at least, our past has been. I should be grateful to—

My eyes widen when I enter my bedroom and see Locke sitting on my bed. He seems to be contemplating something.

“W–What are you doing in my room?!”

“Your room?” He looks confused. “Don’t you mean our room?”

“No!” I toss the towel on a chair. “There is no ’our room,’ Locke. This is my house and my room.”

I realize I’ve said too much when a shutter falls over his face. “I see.”

“That’s not—” Now I feel like the world’s biggest jerk. “That’s not what I meant to say. It’s just that I’ve never shared a room with anyone but you, and now I’m not used to it.” Why am I even offering him an explanation? To soothe his hurt feelings? I must be tired. Trying to keep my voice firm, I continue. “I can set up the guest bedroom for you.”

“It’s alright.” He shakes his head and makes his way to the door. “I’ll sleep out there.”

“The couch is too small for you.”

When he doesn’t respond, I realize he means he’s going to sleep outdoors.

“Locke, wait!” Exasperated, I hurry after him, holding my bathrobe closed with one hand. I block his path. “Will you just wait?”

“What?” He scowls. “I’m leaving. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“No. I mean, not exactly.” I run my fingers through my hair in an agitated movement. “Look, I didn’t mean to hurt you, but you’re trying to move too quickly. I’m still adjusting to all this.”

“I’m not doing anything.” He folds his arms over his chest. “I just want to sleep with my mate. You’re the one who’s insistent on overthinking everything. You and I had very different experiences eight years ago, Corrine. I’ve tolerated you treating me like the enemy, but you’re not the only one who suffered. You were angry and hurt, and you ran. I lost my mate and thought she was dead.”

His words are harsh, but his eyes tell a different story. Confusion. Pain.

I swallow. “You’re right.” Letting out a gust of air, I force myself to relax and think things through. “You’re right. But this is a lot to process, Locke. This morning, the palace, then Sigrid shows up, then you and I, and now this…”

He studies me, and I sort out my thoughts before continuing.

“It’s overwhelming. All of it is. Seeing you again, having to accept what really happened, letting go of my own anger. Everything is crashing around me. Your presence here is disrupting my life, and that scares me. But I don’t want you to go, either. I don’t know if I’m making sense—”

“You don’t have to make sense,” he says quietly. “I understand. We want two very different things. You want this life, and I just want my mate.”

Everything within me goes still. He just wants me?

“It’s not—” My fingers dig into my sleeve as shame washes over me. “There are things you don’t understand, that I can’t explain to you, Locke, because you haven’t stood in my shoes. You’ve been free your whole life, while I was little more than a slave. I always belonged to somebody. I never had autonomy over my own body, never was able to make my own decisions. My life, my worth, even my very existence were decided by Ravenna and then by you. The two of you always held my fate in your hands.”

I’ve never been someone who sheds tears openly. But lately, it seems I can’t stop crying.

“This small house that you look at so disdainfully? It belongs to me. Everything in here, I picked out myself. I learned what I like, what I don’t like. Did you know that I didn’t even have my own favorite color? For the first time, I’m free and allowed to decide things for myself. Nobody controls me. I don’t have to clutch somebody’s legs simply to survive. I don’t have to debase myself in front of anyone just so they grant me a few more days to live. I don’t have to listen to anybody insult or humiliate me and not react because my very survival depends on them.”

I’m shaking, but not out of anger toward him.

“How can I expect you to understand what this life means to me? You’ve known freedom your whole life, Locke. I haven’t. In the castle, in the North, the only way to survive was to subordinate myself to you, to please you. I didn’t even know who I was, the kind of person I was, till I came here. And now, you want me to give it all up, to go back to a life of servitude again—”

“That’s not what—” He looks horrified, but my emotions are running high: guilt, shame, this terrible ache in my chest, and a crippling fear.

“That’s exactly what it is!” I cry out, louder than I wanted. I feel my air passages constrict. Why can’t he understand? Why can’t he—

“Mom?”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep