*Maverick*I watch the clock next to my bed tick past one in the morning, and I resist the urge to scream in frustration. What the hell else could they possibly have to talk about? They have been together since nine yesterday morning. They should have run out of things to talk about by now. My stomach twists violently. Maybe they did run out of things to say. Shit, maybe there has been no talking at all for the last few hours. Images flood my mind of Tatum with Artemis and I groan. I can taste bile in the back of my mouth and I toss my blankets off me, tracking to the bathroom to splash water on my face. I have no right to be sick to my stomach over the thought of them being together. Yet as I lean over the sink and turn on the water, I know this will only get worse. Tatum Rhodes is under my damn skin again and I can’t shake the fucking feeling removing her this time is going to be the death of me. If it weren’t for the rarity of second chance mates, or the lack of sparks when we to

Savannah sees me coming first, her eyes narrowing, and she makes a concerted effort to move closer to Artemis. Everything she does is to keep him focused on her, and that’s fine. I won’t win his attention by being fake and deceitful. I’ll win it just by being in the room. I grab a mug and sneak to the fridge, grabbing out the creamer, and I smile to myself. There is no way he won’t see me getting into the fridge. I turn and tiptoe to the coffee machine, not at all trying to hide myself, but it’s a nice little show to prove I’m not trying to impede. “Tatum,” his velvety voice calls cheerfully and I spin to look at him like a deer caught in the headlights. He looks handsome, as always, only this time he is dawning a little stubble and it pronounces his jawline more. My eyes find his perfectly pink lips and I know he sees me checking him out as the corner of his lips twitch up.“I’m sorry. I know you guys are chatting. Just pretend I am not here. I just needed some coffee.” I say, poin

*Maverick*“Are you mad at me?” Tatum asks tentatively, and I clench my jaw.Mad? Mad doesn’t scratch the surface of what I feel. These pesky emotions I have zero right to but drown in any way. Am I mad? No. Im fucking livid. I’m aching. I had tried to convince myself any feelings for her were gone. That they just keep resurfacing because she is the first person I’ve talked to from my past. All this entire debacle has done is reaffirm how fucking wrong that notion is.Tatum’s eyes fill up with tears again and my stomach sinks. I thought seeing her kiss another man was bad. But this, this is a whole other level of maddening. There is nothing I can do about tears or anxiety over actions. Shit, I can’t fight off the invisible. Add in the factor that she probably would recoil at my touch if I tried to console her and I’m lost on so many levels. How to act, what else to say, how to help her? I’m already breaking my own rules. My oath’s in a way. Thankfully, I can quantify it as protecting

The high of Artemis’ text response to Clem has officially worn off and in its place is now an anxious energy. Artemis is due back today. In fact, he is probably already back; I remind myself, looking down at my watch.Shit. I push myself further, running harder. Maybe I can outrun the anxiety I have over confronting him. This morning when I laced up my shoes I was a little nervous. But with every passing second, my confidence sways and I realize the text really means nothing. Artemis didn’t send it to me. He sent it to Clem who he was texting all night while still actively ignoring me. It was never meant for my eyes, so why would I assume he meant in a good way? He could have meant it in a ‘yeah, she is’ plus a grimace type way. Or maybe he said it because he didn’t know how else to respond to her bringing me up. It must have been awkward.I pass the fountain in the middle of the woods and choose to go past it. This is the furthest I have ever gone before. But if I found this out her

*Tatum*I see Maverick’s outline, the general size of his imposing figure as I look up at him, unwilling to pull myself out of bed. I killed someone. An actual living, breathing person with a life and friends. I didn’t just kill him; I laid in his entrails and was showered in his blood like some sick fucking right of warrior passage. One I didn’t ask for.“Are you in pain?” He asks softly. I shake my head no. I was fortunate enough to not have any serious injuries, other than a chewed up ankle, the rest of my cuts and bruises have already healed. The healer even took the time to wrap my ankle in some type of leaves with some herbs that have taken my pain away. “Then why the hell are you crying?” Maverick asks. There is an edge to his voice, almost as if he is angry with me, and it only makes my lips quiver as more tears flood down my cheek. These damn emotions, these damn eyes.“I killed someone.” I whisper, guilt sliding up my spine and making me shudder. I can still smell him on m