Bellatrix Sinclair
His voice brought upon tranquillity, something I’ve lost in Lazarus presence.
“Did I hear you correctly?” Emmett repeated. “During the Mate Selection, you were matched to King Lazarus?”
“Yes.”
“So you are his mate?”
“Apparently.” Mates were divine connections for werewolves, a blessing from their Moon Goddess.
Emmett released an exasperated breath, “I don’t think you realise what you are in for.”
Rolling my eyes. “My priority is getting out of here. We are on the same page; we don’t want anything to do with each other.”
“Angel.” His sullen tone murmured, “He might say all that, but I read somewhere that a werewolf cannot resist a mate bond. It’s an intertwining of souls, something you cannot fight.”
I chuckled. “Good thing I’m not a werewolf, I don’t feel that connection.”
He grew suspiciously silent. “Hello? Emmett?”
He whispered in question. “Do you really feel nothing for him?”