Mathew looked like he wanted to grab and shake Ronan if he didn't answer him right away. Ronan didn't understand what had him so worked up. It was usually Ronan who got angry about things. He was the hotheaded one, after all.
After leaving her in his makeshift cell, Ronan had planned to take a long, cold shower. He had never felt so aroused by a woman before, not like how it was with his so-called mate. Whether inside or outside the pack, women feared him. With the exception of Valentina and Minerva, he stayed away from women, and they stayed even farther away from him.
But something stirred inside him when he kissed her—a mixture of arousal and disgust.
As soon as he left the room, he nearly retched. How could he even think about kissing that pathetic runt? He cursed under his breath, feeling the urge to down an entire bottle of Listerine, though he doubted it would be enough. He was tempted to cast a spell on himself just to forget the whole thing.
But it was impossible to forget. He could still taste her sweet tongue and imagine the softness of her skin against his calloused hands. Her sweet scent lingered on his body, and he wanted to scrub himself raw until it went away.
Mathew had interrupted him right before he could do that, and now he was demanding to know who she was.
"Answer me, Ronan. Who were you with? Where is she?" Mathew repeated like a broken record. Ronan furrowed his brows and stared hard at his brother, who looked ready to fight him for an answer. Part of Ronan almost hoped Mathew would, so he could put him in his place.
"None of your business," Ronan hissed. "And what makes you think I was with a woman anyway?"
"Because you admitted it a second ago. You asked me how I knew. Remember, dumbass?" Mathew shot back.
"Hey, watch your mouth, Matty. Why are you getting all worked up? It's just a woman I met, that's all," Ronan said, not feeling like telling him the full story just yet. He knew Mathew would get angry and tattle as soon as he found out, and Ronan wasn't ready to face the music with their parents.
"Where did you meet her?" Mathew asked.
"She's the Alpha's daughter. From the Bloodmoon pack," Ronan replied with a grin, knowing what was coming next. His brother was about to give him a lecture, the way he often did, making Ronan wonder if Mathew was the one who was a few seconds older and not the other way around.
"You were with our enemy's daughter? Why? You didn't hurt her, did you?" Mathew's voice sounded almost desperate, which only confused Ronan further.
"No, I didn't hurt her. She's fine," Ronan answered irritably. "What is your problem, man? Who is she to you?" he asked.
Mathew hesitated, then said, "It's going to sound crazy if I tell you."
"You already sound crazy to me, so you might as well just be out with it," Ronan retorted.
But Mathew didn't answer. Instead, he looked down, avoiding Ronan's eyes. "You know what, never mind. I must've made a mistake. I'm just going to go now," he said abruptly.
"Whatever, dude. I'm glad you're done being weird. I'm going to go shower. I smell disgusting," Ronan said before shutting the door on him.
That was strange, Ronan thought. Mathew never kept secrets from him, but this time, it felt like he was hiding something major. Ronan wished he could read his brother's mind like he could with others, but it was impossible. He couldn't read the minds of his siblings because they were all the same kind. Their mother had explained that Faeries couldn't control each other's minds because it would create chaos.
They could feel each other's presence or know if one of them was in trouble, but he couldn't control them. So, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't know what Mathew was thinking. Oh well, he figured Mathew would tell him when the time came.
Ronan lay in bed but couldn't sleep. His thoughts kept circling back to the girl. He never expected that out of all the creatures in the world, his mate would turn out to be his enemy's daughter.
Not that it mattered who she was. Ronan didn't care to have a mate in the first place. He had always planned to reject whoever came his way. Love wasn't something he yearned for.
But then why did he take her?
He couldn't make sense of the overwhelming feeling of longing for her. From the moment he met her, all he could think about was getting his hands on her and taking her away. Was that what it was supposed to be like when you met your mate? He hated it.
Tossing and turning for another hour, Ronan finally jumped up, unable to take it anymore. He needed to see her again.
Maybe she would behave now that he'd put some time and distance between them. He went to the kitchen and grabbed a bowl of beef stew his mother had made earlier. Then, with a snap of his fingers, he was back in that little room again.
His heart stopped as he looked at her pale figure sprawled across the mattress. She looked so tiny and fragile, like he could break her with his bare hands if he wanted.
[She really is the runt of the pack, isn't she?] his wolf roared with laughter.
[She looks weak, and I hate weak,] Ronan hissed back.
[Then why do you like her so much?] his wolf argued.
[I don't like her, idiot. I just… I wanted to own her, that's all.]
[Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.]
His wolf was wrong. Ronan didn't like her one bit.
He stepped toward her slowly and quietly, careful not to wake her up. Her eyes were puffy, as if she had been crying for hours, and her cheeks were flushed.
Her red hair was messy, scattered across her face and chest. On impulse, Ronan picked up a lock of her soft curls and ran his fingers through it. She must have felt it because her eyes snapped open. She gasped, sat up, and stared at him angrily.
"Are you ready to let me go now?" she squealed.
"Nope. I came here to ask if you were hungry," he said, pointing at the bowl. "I brought you some stew."
"I wouldn't touch anything you give me. It'll probably be poison," she snapped.
Ronan chuckled. "If I wanted to kill you, I would've done it long ago. I don't need poison to do it either."
"If you don't want to kill me, then what do you want from me? This is no way to treat your mate!" she exclaimed.
Ronan leaned down, lifting her chin so she was forced to look him in the eyes. "Maybe I just want to hurt you and keep hurting you until you wish you were dead," he hissed.
Her lips quivered, and her eyes filled with tears. Here come the waterworks, he thought.
"Wh…why?" she whispered.
"Because it's fun to watch others in pain. My main source of entertainment is watching people cry," he said gruffly. He wasn't exactly lying—he did enjoy the pain and suffering of others.
"That's your main source of entertainment? Couldn't you just watch movies or something? I could suggest some good ones," she said.
Hah, we got ourselves a comedian, Ronan thought.
"Are you trying to be a smartass?" he roared.
"No, I'm telling you to find a hobby that doesn't make others miserable," she argued.
"Why am I even listening to you? I came here to see if you are ready to obey me like a good little girl," he said, picking up her hair and twirling it around his fingers. For some reason, he enjoyed touching her hair immensely. It somehow calmed him down. And her scent… he was getting used to the sweet smell.
"I will never obey you, so just get lost. And I won't touch any food you give me." She pouted.
Ronan shrugged. "Suit yourself. I'll just eat it myself." He scooped some stew up in his spoon and shoved it into his mouth. "Mmmm… this is delicious. You're missing out. It smells so good too, doesn't it?"
She fidgeted. "Maybe I'll try a little…" she raised her hand to grab the bowl, but he smacked it away.
"Nope. You snooze, you lose, little runt." Ronan laughed.
She winced. "You're so mean! And stop calling me a runt. I have a name, you know?"
"Yeah? What's that?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he realized he had never bothered to ask her name.
"Sophia," she said quietly.