Chapter 39

I squeezed my eyes shut and rested my forehead on the door. The thought of spending the night with Griff as myself made my insides twist into agonizing knots.

Beki’s sharp barks told me I was being pathetic. The worst part was that I couldn’t disagree. It turned out that I could withstand all that time in Hell—the torture, the pain, the humiliation—yet my insides quivered at the thought of being rejected once again by my mate.

My wolf pushed against our bond, making my skin itch. This was her way of telling me that if I wasn’t woman enough to walk through that door and claim my mate, she would do it for me.

“Give me a minute,” I murmured.

The porter cleared his throat. “Miss,” he said with barely concealed impatience. “You have already contravened section twelve, subsection forty-two, article five of the Supernatural Secrecy Act, which states—”

“Stop.” I cracked open an eye. “The door just got jammed.”

He placed a gloved hand on the wooden surface and unlocked it with a pulse of magic