EIGHTY-SEVEN

‘You need to know that the man who is about to mate with you will not always be there to save you,’ I remembered Abigail’s words from the day she’d tried to poison me. I glanced at Draven who was seated next to me at the gathering with the kingmakers and the other members of the Lycaon tribe. His expression was bland, but I could feel his displeasure. For a man like Draven, it felt like an insult to summon him to a gathering like this.

To curb my anxiety, I had to focus on anything but the crowd. I had to ignore the look on their faces and let my mind wander to other things, after all, I didn’t want to embarrass myself and my mate by having a panic attack right in front of these people that were looking up to us. The only person who knew that I was truly broken inside was Draven, but I was thankful he didn’t try to make me look weak in presence of his subjects. One would look at him now and not see that even he was fazed on the inside. He didn’t hold my hand or attempt any bodily co