I took the bouquet, staring at it. Once, I would’ve been thrilled. I used to envy the girls who walked down the street, holding fresh flowers from their mates. I’d told Tristan that once, but he’d laughed it off.
“If I’d known you were this vain,” he said now, his voice sharp, “I wouldn’t have wasted my time. You’re a wolfless Omega, Ember. Be grateful Moon Goddess chose you at all to be my mate.”
I felt something crack inside me. He always knew where to hit, how to twist the knife just right.
I met his gaze, my voice calm but cold. “Grateful? For what? Being your second choice?” I stepped forward, the bouquet slipping from my hands. “Tell me, Tristan—are these the same roses you used with Selene? I saw Selene's post earlier while I was scrolling, she was in a tub, full of petals. You really are amazing…” I sarcastically added.
Tristan's jaw clenched, but he didn’t deny it.
I smirked, bitter and broken. “I don’t need second-hand flowers. And I sure as hell don’t need a second-hand man.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re acting ridiculous. Don't you know how lucky you are?.”