“I thought Matthew liked me,” I whispered, and then I dropped my head in my hands. I hadn't meant to say that out loud. I was just so tired. So very, very fucking tired. Ian made a weird, strangled sound and shifted on the couch suddenly. Was he going to actually punch me? Did I care? “Why did you mate with me, then? If you thought it was a trap? If I'm — just like him?” I took my hands off my face and looked up at him, and was shocked to see how pale he was, and how stricken. He turned away and got up off the couch. Maybe I'd imagined it. Maybe he was so angry he'd gone white.
