Waxing Love 17: "It's not a mockery, it's cruelty"

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 Ignore the big gap that appears in the first page... not sure why it's there and I can't figure out how to get rid of it. 

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        The door swung shut with a definite thud behind Stephen Tatlock, my uncle Alfie, my cousin Oliver, and the rest of the occupants of the house. That left Luke and me by ourselves, standing in the sitting room, where we had somehow moved to after the scene in the kitchen. Stephen Tatlock had claimed that I had accepted being Luke’s mate – I wasn’t so sure he was right about that. Yes, I had agreed to stay to support Luke when his father asked everyone to leave the room. But that was a hell of a long way away from agreeing to be his mate.

        I swallowed carefully, glancing at the werewolf in the room with me. “So what’s on the agenda?”

        Luke sighed heavily and sank onto one of the sofas. “The same thing that’s been on the agenda for the past six weeks that I’ve known you exist. Us being mates.”

        I didn’t want to follow suit and sit down, I was too keyed up to keep still for too long. And I had the feeling that this conversation was going to make me even more upset and emotional than I usually was since I had run into the werewolf world. “I don’t want to be forced into this life, Luke.”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

       “Of course you don’t,” Luke said, his voice oddly dead. “You hate me, you hate this place, the pack, everything.”

        “I don’t – “ I faltered. “I don’t hate you.” I really didn't. I had many feelings about the Tatlock pack and Luke, many angry, upset feelings, but I didn't hate them.

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