Rowan had flown the whole night, ditching the festivities to his own wedding because Silas and his mandatory attendance bullshit could go fuck themselves, really. Well, that, and the fact that had he been forced in closed confines with the bastard, he’d have killed him on sight.
And in all honesty, his little tantrum hadn’t helped much with the wildfire of fury inside him. But it did put his rage on a simmer, gave him a little more time to devise the most creatively painful ways a werewolf could die in and Rowan was still very much determined to kill the damned mutt as he walked back home from the outskirts of the town.
It was a relief neither Rosalie, nor Luna were in sight when he walked through the door, though any hopes that they’d absconded were quickly pushed aside as unfair. It wasn’t their fault, not this, at least, and Rowan needed to focus on the real enemy. He sneaked into his bedroom to change out of his stupid suit and have a shower, before braving the shitstorm this new development had made out of his life.
He could add to the list now, along with everything else, him fucking off minutes after they were married, as what was wrong with their relationship. Not that there was much of that going around, but the odds of any flourishing were dwindling rapidly.
Maybe he should apologize.
Or maybe he should tell them to get the fuck out of his house.
It wouldn’t break the soul bond, but at least he wouldn’t have them around as constant reminders. And besides, his ring wasn’t on a trigger finger, he could quite comfortably do without one out of ten.
“I’m making breakfast,” he announced, as his eyes fell on Rosalie and then Luna, standing at the terrace door. “Omelet. Anything in particular you like on yours?” the question was directed more towards the one who needed to eat.
Luna’s softly-spoken statement grated on his already overwrought nerves. She seemed more uncertain and awkward than fire-spitting angry, and Rowan didn’t know what to do with that.
What was worse, was that her doubt seemed to be rubbing off on him, as well. There was a part of Rowan that wanted to reassure her and sure, it could be argued that it would be obvious even to him that being an asshole about this whole situation wouldn’t help one jot, or maybe it was that stupid, fucking soul bond messing with his mind and policing his behavior.
They needed to find out everything they could about soul bonds before he went insane. And in the meantime, the way to keep himself on the razor sharp edge of control was by keeping himself busy as he stomped around the kitchen, pulling out ingredients and pans, starting the coffee, and turning on the oven. “Do any of us even know anything about soul bonds, other than what those dipshits said? Because I can fucking guarantee it’s not the whole story.”
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