She'd known, of course. She'd known this was only temporary, and that just because she'd fallen for Samuel hard and fast, that didn't mean he felt the same. She'd accepted that he wasn't in love with her. But hearing him talk about her like that, in that casual, dismissive tone, as if she didn't matter to him at all… She couldn't take it.
Any minute now, the brothers were going to turn around and see her standing there with tears in her eyes. Theresa flinched at the thought of having to explain herself, imagined the look of pity in Samuel's eyes when she told him how much she loved him, when he didn't feel the same…
No. That was the last thing she wanted.
Theresa sat the glasses down on a nearby table. One of them fell over and shattered, but she couldn't stop to clean it up. Tears were running freely down her cheeks by now. All she wanted was to get away before they saw her.
She walked as quickly as she could without outright running, keeping her head down, letting her hair fall in front of her face like a curtain, trying to hide her tears.
The hallway in front of the bathrooms was blessedly dark and quiet. Theresa took a deep breath.
"Theresa?" someone called behind her. A woman's voice.
Theresa reluctantly turned around. She didn't want anyone to see her like this. She could imagine what she must look like, a shaking, ugly mess, make-up smeared halfway down her face by her tears.
It was Vivienne, Samuel's brother's wife. "What happened, dear? You look terrible!" she asked.
Theresa felt a violent blush creep over her cheeks. Vivienne, of course, looked perfectly put together, spectacularly beautiful in a green dress, her blonde hair streaming halfway down to her waist; she was just about the last person Theresa wanted to meet when she herself was this much of a wreck.
"I'm fine. It's just—I just need to—" Theresa started, then had no idea how to go on. She didn't want to talk about it, but she also didn't have a convenient lie prepared, and her mind was blank and empty.
"Oh dear," Vivienne said, not unkindly. She reached out. Theresa let her take her hand, embarrassed, but not wanting to outright reject the offered comfort.
The moment their skin touched, she wanted to snatch her hand back. Vivienne's skin was icy, not cold like human skin but like real ice, like sticking your hand into a pile of freshly fallen snow. Vivienne held her with iron strength, not letting her pull away. Ice crept up Theresa's arm, through her entire body, until even her thoughts felt frozen and sluggish. And then everything went dark around her. Someone caught her just before she hit the floor.
***
Samuel heard the tinkle of broken glass and turned around. He felt an itch between his shoulder blades when he turned his back on Severin, aware of his unprotected back. His heart was pounding inside his chest. If he couldn't make Severin believe him—if he couldn't make sure Theresa was safe—
God, he was an idiot, he was ten kinds of an idiot; how could he not have seen? He should have realized Theresa was his mate. It shouldn't have taken Severin to point out the half-formed bond between them. He'd felt it from the start: the irresistible pull toward her that had started the second he'd laid eyes on her picture. He should have recognized what it was he was feeling. He'd fallen for her so hard, so quickly.
But then, bonds always developed slowly, for dragons. Yes, the pull was there from the start, but the real bond, that could take weeks, even months to reach its full strength. And he'd been caught up in his brilliant scheme, so determined that he had to keep things temporary and casual to keep her safe, that he'd never thought to look at his own feeling and reconsider what it was he felt.
Of course she was his mate. Of course.
And now Severin knew about Theresa—
Theresa. It was Theresa who'd dropped the glass. She was walking away from them, her head held high but her shoulders tense with misery. She must have heard what they'd been talking about. Must have heard Samuel's lies. Oh God.
"Theresa!" he called, but she didn't seem to hear him. He had to stop her, he had to explain—
Severin caught his arm when Samuel made to go after her. Samuel realized that he'd given the game away with his reaction. But then Severin had known anyway.
He had to get to her. If she was his mate, he could protect her. But he had to find her now.
He yanked his arm free. But it was too late. He'd lost sight of Theresa in the moment of hesitation, and now the press of bodies in the room shielded her from view.
Samuel ruthlessly pushed through the crowd, not caring whose toes he stepped on. He had to get to his mate.
The hallway in front of the bathrooms was empty and deserted. "Theresa?" Samuel called, but he already knew she wasn't here. He could feel it.
Where could she have gone? She wasn't at coat check; she wasn't in front of the hotel. Maybe she was still in the ballroom after all? But no, she would've wanted to get away from people. Maybe she'd caught a taxi, he tried to tell himself, maybe she was already safely on her way home…