Elain under that male body, now turning her head Lucien’s way, pleasure still flushing her cheeks, breasts he’d never seen, peaked and gleaming, where the male had been suckling on them— Azriel was in his mate’s bed, naked. And Elain was naked too.

“You are his mate. Do you even know what that means?” “It means nothing,” Elain said, her voice breaking. “It means nothing. I don’t care who decided it or why they did—” “You belong to him.” “I belong to no one.”

Just because Lucien was her mate didn’t mean he had a claim on her time. Her affection. She was her own person, capable of making her own choices.

She did not love him, want him, need him.

She was too polite to send him away on a normal day. She just ignored him or barely spoke to him until he got the hint and left.