Chapter 33

Draven’s POV

I stood frozen, as though every drop of blood had drained from my veins. A numbness stole over me, tightening like a fist around my chest. My gaze roamed across Maeve’s face—first lingering on her lips, then drifting back to her eyes. My brows drew together in confusion. Was she really rejecting me? I studied her expression as if trying to decide whether this bitter truth could possibly be real.

Her steady, solemn stare confirmed it: she meant every bloody word. She had turned me down. Yet forcing myself to accept her refusal felt pointless. Anger began to ferment where pain had been, and suddenly I laughed. I released her, but the laughter poured out of me uncontrollably, tears gathering in my eyes.

Maeve watched me with alarm, her brow knitting in bewilderment as I laughed on. Then, in one swift, terrifying motion, I seized her and slammed her against the wall. My grip on her shoulders was unyielding.

She struggled, but escape proved imp