Page 83 of Rejected By the Shifter King

I look at him, feeling this time thathe’sthe one who’s grown a pair of horns even though yes, I do know that leopards don’t have horns.

“I don’t understand.”

He tilts his head slightly. “You’ll need to elaborate.”

How soon can we arrange our wedding?

My head actually starts hurting upon remembering this, and it hurts even more when more memories resurface, and I find myself reliving that day from six years ago.

“But you rejected me,” I hear myself say unsteadily.

“I did.”

Just like that. No emotion, no explanation, just calm acknowledgment.

“Then now you want to marry me?”

“I do.”

Seriously?

I look at him incredulously, and my head just keeps hurting with how he only raises a brow at my direction like I’m the one being unreasonable.

“That’s reallyallyou have to say?”

“Then you’ll have to be more speci—”

Oh, this man is going to be the death of me, and he’s a near complete stranger at that!

“I want to know why you rejected me,” I choke out.

He’s quiet for a moment, those golden eyes studying me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle.

“The simple answer? BecauseThat Dayhad not yet happened when we first met, and hiding the truth from my own wife was an unnecessary inconvenience I didn’t care to sign up for.”

Oh.

Okay.

That made sense.

BeforeThat Day,humans in general knew nothing about preters, and preters (also in general) had preferred to keep it that way, too.

I totally get how complicated it would be for a preter to marry a human wife. That alone would’ve been enough explanation. He could’ve left it at that.

But he didn’t, so...

“What’s the not-simple answer?”

He leans back in the chair, and the air around us changes. Once still and calm, it now vibrates with a brooding kind of tension that’s reflected in the rigid set of his shoulders. His gorgeous face, almost always a perfectly expressionless mask, now has something to reveal, with the way his lips tighten, even if it’s just a fraction.

The silence stretches between us, and my courage starts to falter. I begin to wonder if I’ve foolishly treaded in dangerous waters for no reason. But before I can tell him to just forget it—

“My rejection has nothing to do with you.”

I feel like I’ve just become the receiving end of the preter version of ‘it’s not you, it’s me’—

“At that time, I was in love with someone else.”