Page 114 of His Ruthless Match

My shoulders sagged slightly as I rubbed my jaw. “She doesn’t know. I haven’t told her she’s my mate. She’s already dealing with enough. How do I drop that on her without it blowing everything up?”

Grelth finally looked up at me. His gaze was calculating, his expression unreadable. “Master Jareth, if you know it’s not the right time, then why torment yourself with this?”

“Because I can’t stop thinking about her. Every time I look at her, I feel… I don’t know. Like my soul is walking around outsideof me. And if anything happens to her—” The words caught in my throat.

Grelth set down the cloth and straightened his jacket. “Master Jareth, you are not the first to feel this way. Nor will you be the last. But you must remember that fate is not something to be rushed. It unfolds in its own time.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, skepticism creeping into my voice. “When did you become a philosopher?”

“Master Grelth has had centuries to observe your kind and its foolishness. The answer, as always, is patience. She will see it when she is ready.”

I chuckled despite myself. “Thanks, Grelth. I didn’t think you had it in you to be encouraging.”

He arched an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Do not mistake my words for encouragement. They are merely observations.”

“Of course,” I said dryly. “Still, thanks for?—”

“And might I add,” Grelth interrupted, his tone taking on a mocking edge, “Master Jareth, your incessant pacing and moody sighs are not helping your case. Perhaps try brooding less. It’s very unbecoming.”

I glared at him, though the annoyance was half-hearted. “And there it is. Thanks for nothing, Grelth.”

Grelth bowed slightly, a picture of mock servitude. “You are most welcome, Master Jareth.”

He retreated to another part of the apartment, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I leaned heavily on the counter, staring at the polished espresso machine without really seeing it. Needing a distraction, I pulled my phone from my pocket. I scrolled through my messages aimlessly before typing out a quick text to Luca.

Jareth:How’s the Crimson Dominion? Any updates?

Luca:The same. Blood, guts, and ass everywhere. Typical rebel faction shit.

Jareth:Does The Shadow have a handle on it?

Luca:Relax. Focus on Eva. We’re getting closer to figuring out who the ringleader is. We’ll take it from there.

I stared at the screen. If something big was brewing in the Crimson Dominion, how long would I really have before I’d be pulled back into the chaos? The thought made my stomach churn.

Eva wandered into the kitchen, coffee mug in hand. She was wearing loose pajama pants and a tank top, her hair slightly messy from the day’s work. To me, she looked like she’d walked out of a dream.

Her hair, her lips, the sway of her hips as she moved toward the coffee pot… Fuck, I was beyond screwed.

“Taking a break?” I asked, keeping my tone steady despite the way my pulse was racing.

She nodded as she poured coffee into her mug. “Needed a refill. Too much to do, not enough caffeine to do it.” She glanced at me, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like I have something on my face.”

“Maybe I’m just appreciating the view,” I said honestly.

She rolled her eyes, though I didn’t miss the pink tint that crept into her cheeks.

As the door clicked shut behind her, I exhaled and shoved my hands into my pockets. This woman was going to be my undoing.

I glanced back at my phone. Luca’s last message was still on the screen.Focus on Eva.Nothing could be easier.

After dinner,I sat watching Eva fidget with her laptop. She was so focused, her brows furrowed as she typed furiously, the glow of the screen illuminating her face. The exhaustion on her face was clear.

“Delgado,” I said, my voice cutting through the quiet. “You’ve been staring at that thing all day. Take a break.”