MAEVE'S POV
My breath hitched.
But even then, I knew this game.
Classic intimidation.
A power play. A test. A demand for submission.
He still thought I was the same woman he knew five years ago, the woman who bent over backward to please him.
The woman who withered under his indifference. The woman who ached for his approval, no matter how little he gave.
I wasn't that woman anymore. It was about time I showed him.
"You're not man enough to scare me, Ivan. Maybe you were once. But I bled that fear out a long time ago."
His expression remained stoic, but I saw it—the quick flash of surprise in his eyes.
"What were you expecting?" I smirked then. "That I'd whimper and cower at the sound of your threats? That might have worked in the past, but not anymore."
Something shifted in his expression—dark amusement.
"Careful, Maeve." His voice dropped to a warning. "Keep running that mouth, and I just might find out how well it works when you're choking on your own breath."
His hands clenched at his sides, and I saw how much he was fighting the urge to touch me. Choke me. Those hands—large, lined with thick veins.
I wondered what it would feel like to be touched by Ivan Cross again. Would his hands burn as hot as the fire in his eyes?
Would they be rough? Hard? Would they grip and claim and take? Going by the insanity of the wrath bond, I could tell—he wanted to fuck me.
Badly.
His eyes were drowning in his wolf's hunger.
Wasn't it ironic? I'd spent my whole life waiting to be looked at like this by Ivan—and the moment he finally did was the moment he'd already lost me.
But even then, I couldn't help the subtle, shameful wondering: would his thrusts be slow and sensual… or just as soulless as he'd always been?
Would I have to fake an orgasm, like I did over and over with Devon? Or would Ivan take me the fucking monster he was?
Heat curled low in my belly at the thought of being taken apart by the same asshole my wolf craved above all else.
Well. I guess I'd never know.
"Your empty threats mean nothing to me," I tilted my chin, feigning boredom. "You act all high and mighty," I continued. "But let's get one thing straight, Ivan—you need me. If you didn't, you wouldn't have sent your dogs crawling to beg for the girl you once called worthless. So if you want your precious mother breathing by sunrise, I suggest you watch your tone… and try something new, like respect."
"I never knew you were the Moon Healer," he ground out, jaw ticking. "If I had—"
"What?" I cut him off with a scoff. "You would never have sent for me? It's not too late, you know. I can still leave. I can walk away right now with Asha—" I pushed closer, leveling him with a glare. "And there's nothing you can do to stop me."
Ivan stilled.
"Asha," he repeated, softer this time, slower. But then, his eyes snapped in the next breath. "You really think I'll let my son leave with the woman who vanished in the night and kept him from me for five fucking years?" He chuckled, dark and sinful. "Try it. I dare you."
"He's my son!"
"He's mine too," Ivan growled. "And if you take him again, I swear to the goddess, I'll burn down the fucking world to bring him back."
For a moment, I was taken aback by his intensity. The test result had yet to be revealed, yet he already felt possessive of Asha. Exactly as Devon predicted.
If he was right, this might be enough to end the wedding entirely.
"The DNA results haven't even come in yet. How can you be so sure that he's yours?" I raised a brow.
"Because I know you, Maeve." He exhaled a deep breath, his gaze locked onto mine. It was the first time he didn't lead with a scowl. "You never would have brought him here if you weren't already sure of his identity. But what I don't understand is why you stayed away for so long. Where have you been all this time? And why now? Why come back just to ruin my chance at finding love with another?"
Love? Did he say love?
The thought of Ivan being in love with anyone was ludicrous. He was unemotional and cold.
And yet, that was part of his appeal—the air of mystery, the brutal indifference. That face, sculpted like sin itself.
Even before we were mated, women flocked to him. Even afterward, they still harbored not-so-secret feelings. Loving a man like Ivan Cross was a death sentence.
And in the end, I had died willingly.
"Love? Ruin?" I snorted. "Again, I remind you—it was you who summoned me here to heal your mother. But don't worry, Ivan. I retain my right to leave the minute I feel unwelcome."
"I know for a fact that you hate the ailing queen. Why would someone like you care if she lives or dies? It makes no sense that you'd come all this way just to heal her."
"Again, I am a healer. My personal feelings do not interfere with my profession."
"Again, I don't believe you." His lips twisted. "I'm going to get to the bottom of this, and when I do—" he pressed harder into me, voice like a growl "—there will be consequences."
"Fine," I snarled, meeting his intensity with my own. "You want to know why I'm here? Apart from revealing Asha's identity as the rightful heir of Ash Creek, I came back to break the mating bond between us. That's how much I want to be free of you."
His expression didn't change. If anything, his gaze darkened, thick with something dangerous.
"You don't want that," he whispered.
"And how the hell would you know what I want?"
"Because," he breathed, "I've been pressed up against you for the last fifteen minutes, and you haven't done a damn thing to stop me."
A slow, seething horror spread through me. Because he was right.
We were touching everywhere, and I hadn't moved. Hadn't pushed him away again. My wolf liked being close to him. Even if I didn't.
"I haven't shoved you off yet because I've been too busy trying to put your ego in its place," I threw back, salvaging the last of my pride. "But please, don't let my being here stop you. Go ahead, Ivan—find yourself another poor, desperate woman willing to put up with a narcissist like you." I lifted my chin. "Meanwhile, I'll be severing the last thing tying me to you. Now, get away from me."
This time, I shoved him with every ounce of strength I had.
But rather than the satisfaction I craved, he caught my wrists—hard—and yanked me closer, lifting my chin until my lips were barely a breath away from his.
"Narcissist," he murmured, smirking. The movement brought his lips so devastatingly close, I could feel his breath on my skin. "Didn't stop you from loving me five years ago."
"Loving you was a mistake," I lashed out. "One I'll never make again."
"You're lying," he whispered, his hand pressing lower, right against the curve of my spine. "You're probably dying to kiss me right now."
"What?" I sucked in a sharp breath. "You're insane!"
The bastard's smirk widened.