Jude stared at Timothy's outstretched hand, frozen in place. Moving felt impossible when doubt clouded every thought.
"Come here," Timothy repeated, his tone soft as silk. No hint of the pain he'd endured showed on his face—if anything, he looked completely relaxed.
Jude chewed her bottom lip, torn between desire and fear. God, she craved his embrace. That single taste had left her addicted, but was surrendering to it the smart move?
Would Timothy truly accept both her and Harlow? Would he cherish them, or would the day come when he'd demand she abandon her daughter?
Honestly, the unknown terrified her. She refused to open her heart only to have him shatter it beyond repair.
Fear paralyzed her. That extended hand promised everything and threatened to become a noose around her neck.
Once the mate bond locked into place, stopping it would be impossible. Too powerful to break, too overwhelming to resist—she'd be completely at his mercy.
Walking away now made the most sense.
