“How was the food?” I asked, breaking the awkward silence after dinner.

My mate leaned back on the chair and looked aside.

He hadn't used the utensils and he was still mad, so he hadn't been exactly clean while eating.

“Okay...” I drawled and stood up, taking the plates.

Walking to the sink, I felt a presence behind me. I turned around.

“W-why...” He blinked and his brows furrowed. “Why don't you want me?”

I audibly gasped as he surprised me again. He said it so well, my skin prickled. What was he? Was the person inside returning or was it the muscle memory? Was it even possible?

“I don't”—I...