Chapter 27 A DIFFERENT VERSION OF CORMAC GRAVES
MERRIELYNN.
I stepped out of the bathroom, feeling the cool air hit my face as I looked around the room.
But then I froze, my heart leaping into my throat.
My heart raced, pounding in my chest like a drum as I laid eyes on Cormac, standing in the middle of my room with his hands casually tucked in his pockets.
Panic surged through me as I scanned the room for something—anything—to defend myself. My eyes landed on the blow dryer on my vanity. Without thinking, I snatched it up and aimed it at him like it was a weapon.
“What are you going to do?” he asked, his tone level. “Dry me to death?”
His nonchalance only fueled my anxiety, and I gripped the blow dryer tighter, trying to steady my shaky hands.
“It’s hardly a great weapon.”
“Better than nothing,” I shot back, my voice harder than I felt. “What are you doing here? What do you want?” I asked, pressing my back against the wall, trying to create as much distance as possible between us.
Cormac watched me intently, rolling his jaw for a moment before taking a step closer.
“Don’t come any closer,” I warned.
He cocked an eyebrow at me. And then he took another step.
His eyes were focused, calm, as he crossed the space between us, one deliberate step after another, until he was so close that the blow dryer was practically pressed against his chest.
He wrapped his fingers around my hand, holding it in place as he lowered the blow dryer, his grip firm but slow.
I swallowed, the air between us too thick, his scent too close, his face and intentions too unreadable. A broken breath shuddered out of me when his fingers brushed lightly over my cheek again, right over the fading bruise.
His touch was soft, careful, but it felt like fire on my skin. There was no makeup to cover the effect of what happened in the boys locker room.
My breath grew shallow, and I couldn’t stop the sharp intake of air as he traced the faint yellowish color that hadn’t fully healed yet.
I hated this feeling—trapped by him, caught between hating his presence and feeling drawn in by his touch.
My grip on the blow dryer faltered, and I let it slip from my fingers. It clattered to the ground loudly, the sound echoing in the tense silence. Seizing the moment, I slipped away from him, crossing over to the center of the room where he had been standing just moments before.
I inhaled deeply, finally free of the intoxicating scent that lingered in the air, and stared at his back.
He didn’t turn around.
“If you don’t leave, I’m going to raise an alarm,” I warned, trying to keep my voice steady despite the fluttering in my chest. I meant it, but my heart was racing too fast, my hands still trembling. It felt like every nerve in my body was on edge, waiting for his next move.
His back remained to me, and then he spoke, “I found out what happened.”
My heart skipped a beat, and I hesitated, not expecting those words to come out of his mouth so suddenly.
The silence stretched between us for a moment before he continued, “Who did it.”
I felt my breath catch in my throat. “What?” I whispered, surprised and confused.
Then, without turning to face me, he added, “I came here to apologize.”
My eyes widened slightly at that, the unexpectedness of his admission leaving me momentarily speechless.
I studied his back, my mind racing as I tried to make sense of the situation.
This wasn’t just anyone standing in front of me.
It was Cormac Graves, but not the version I was used to.
I had to be careful.
He was here to apologize on someone else’s behalf, yet he couldn’t even meet my gaze. Screw that.
Then, as if he could read my mind, he turned around, his voice low and steady as he continued with words that almost swept me off my feet. “That shouldn’t have happened to you. You didn’t deserve that.”
I held his gaze for a moment, searching for sincerity in his eyes. “But I deserved everything else?”
His expression remained impassive, and I felt a rush of frustration. There was a bite within me, a nagging need to jog his memory. “The strippers? The blackmail? I deserved that?” I pushed, needing him to remember how miserable he had made my life, how much of a mess he, himself had caused.
He looked at me, unflinching, and simply said, “You destroyed my car.”
I bit back, “You kidnapped me!”
Cormac shook his head, dismissing my words. “That’s an exaggeration.”
I scoffed, incredulous.
What was even the point of this conversation?
“Fine, your girlfriend’s crazy, I get it. You came here to say sorry on her behalf. Apology not accepted. Can you get the fuck out now?”
My heart was racing, not just from anger but from the sheer absurdity of the situation. Did he think he could just waltz in here and say a few words, expecting me to accept a silly apology for his girlfriend’s actions?
I didn’t need one, and neither did I want it either.
Cormac tilted his head. “You keep pulling that blackmail card when I haven’t even used it once.”
I shot back, “You told me to stay away from Valtor.”
“And you didn’t listen,” he sneered suddenly, and I felt a rush of anger welling up inside me.
I paused, the memory of the party flooding back.
He had lost, but then demanded a rematch, to reclaim his victory. I still wondered if his refusal to accept defeat had anything to do with what Valtor said he’d wanted from me.
But that would be crazy.
He had taken the win just to drive the knife deeper into my chest. He always looked for opportunities to exploit, and that day, he had managed to create one.
A weight pressed down on my chest, and despite myself, I asked, “Does Juniper even know we’re mates?”
Cormac’s eyes shifted, his expression barely changing, but enough for me to see a flicker of something. “Do you want her to know we’re mates?” he asked, his voice low.
My lips parted in surprise.
He had never actually confirmed that he could feel the bond.
Maybe that was why I could convince myself it was one-sided, that he wasn’t just some douchebag who treated his fated mate terribly. I watched him closely, waiting for his next move.
He took a step toward me, lifting his brows as he said, “Oh? Did you think this bullshit was one-sided? That I can’t feel it?”
I chose to ignore his question, my mind focusing on one thing instead.
Bullshit.
Our bond was bullshit to him.
Well, it was bullshit to me too.
A knock came at the door, breaking the heavy silence. Emorie’s voice came through, calling my name. I couldn’t answer in time before she pushed the door open, her eyes widening when she saw Cormac. She looked between us, concern and confusion clear on her face.
“Umm,” she breathed.
Cormac lifted a hand, his expression calm, almost too calm. “Can we have some privacy?” he asked, like it was his right, like he belonged here.
Emorie’s gaze shifted to me, and I could see the worry on her face, a deep fear lurking just beneath the surface.
She had known Cormac far longer than I had; she had witnessed the darker sides of him that I was still getting used to.
“Are you okay with this?” she asked me, her voice trembling slightly.
“I’ll be fine,” I replied, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
Em hesitated, her eyes searching mine for assurance. I could see her bravery shining through, even as she dealt with her own fear.
“Just… be careful, okay?” she finally whispered, stepping back but not taking her eyes off me.
I nodded, grateful for her concern.
In this moment, I realized how lucky I was to have a friend like her.
She was a keeper, and her worry for me outweighed her fear of Cormac.
I nodded at Emorie, catching the wary shift of her eyes back to Cormac. Her eyes squinted into a glare of warning, and I watched as Cormac narrowed his eyes at her immediately.
Emorie’s eyes widened slightly before she ducked her head out of the room with a sharpness that cut through the silence.
Once the door clicked shut, I glanced at Cormac.
He remained frozen in place, hands in his pockets, his gaze steady on me.
“Why are you still here?” I asked, my voice quiet, almost a whisper.
He looked at me, a strange expression in his eyes. “I’m not sure,” he said, his voice barely audible.
I watched him, trying to understand, but then his expression changed so suddenly, his face darkening, anger tightening his jaw. The shift in his demeanor sent a ripple of unease through me.
Before I could even process the shift, he turned sharply and strode to the door, pulling it open and letting it slam shut behind him.
I stared at the door in utter perplexion.
Was that really it? He just came here to apologize?
I struggled to make sense of it all when, without warning, my door barged open again.
Em stood wide-eyed in the threshold as she deadpanned, “Oh, honey, you have got some explaining to do.”