Noctisardor Bypass I own that technology now.

He wanted validation — instead, he got icewater to the face in the form of stark reality.

He’d made his own choices, same as Heda. But Anselm hated the bed made for him.

Vhy vouldn’t you get rid of them?! He half-whispered. He wasn’t fit to be a father. She already had children. What world would they be born into where they’d have to scratch out the saddest living between two partners who had more love for the dirt than one another?

Was he viciously mean for this brand of pragmatic mercy? He stepped back, visibly stunned by her assessment of his character.

You didn’t ask me to take care of you! You asked me to marry you. His words twisted with scarcely concealed irritation. He was always the bad guy, always the asshole, and he resented her for pointing it out no matter if it was true.

Heda spoke of her husband - of a past Anselm had no part of. He could not help but feel her life was worse for him in it. He looked away as he saw emotion overturn the iciness of her gaze, hot tears softening their hard angles.

You vould rather fuck a man that hurts his packmates than look at me. Anselm called to Heda’s retreating backside, digging the verbal knife in when Heda had almost offered a compromise.


She’d given him an olive branch, and he decided to set it on fire.