Chapter 9 Chapter Nine

To say I had made people really mad was an understatement. Luna hadn’t taken my abrupt speech too well. She was never fond of being told no, and she always got what she wanted, but not today. Luckily, alpha Michael was there to restrain her. She had lunged towards me in anger, but Alpha Michael held her down. The two Lycans who stood next to the elders were quick on their feet, rushing towards the front ready to do whatever it took so that she wouldn’t reach me.

Killians' hands were now tied around me, reassuring me that everything would be okay. I melted in his touch. I still couldn’t believe that he would be mine. The rational part of me kept nagging me, telling me that this was too quick, I had barely talked to the man, yet not even twenty four hours later, he had claimed me as his and wanted me to be his mate, his Queen. The other part of me was just squealing like a little girl, beyond excited that I’d be close to Kilian and that this perfect dominant specimen of a wolf would be mine, forever mine.

"I’m sorry My Lord. my wife is just a very passionate person please forgive her, she did not mean any disrespect really, As for the girl there is no need for all of this, as you have said, you wish to make her your mate and who am I to stand in the way. If she wishes to leave she may leave, we have no right to keep her here if she has already found her mate,"

The words shot right through me like an arrow, Killian, my intended mate. Although I did feel a pull towards him, he is still not my intended mate. Then again, who knows, perhaps the goddess has given me a second chance.

There was a very low chance that I had my mate out there. Now that I think about it, my mate could really be dead. I wonder how he felt, dying so young, without knowing his mate, without meeting me. Or perhaps he was still alive and well, having found another worth sacrificing his intended mate for, another who was his world, who would provide him with a family and a happy life.

"Good," Killians said, breaking my trance, "at least one of you has a mind, and it's late." And with that, he stood up from the seat and held out his hand for me, I felt the heat rush to my cheeks as I placed my hands on my hips.

He led me in silence up the rustic wooden stairs, I could swear that he could hear my heartbeat. I didn’t try to hide it nor control it, I wanted him to know how much he affected me. We stood before the door, the door that I had snuck out of just a few hours ago, I could smell his scent behind it. I didn’t move, I could feel his eyes on me, waiting for me to make the first move. I couldn’t.

"Where do you sleep?" His smile relaxed my muscles.

"Upstairs in the attic,"

"Show me."

And I did. it was my turn to take his hand, he let me. He stood at the entrance of the attic. He looked out of place at the entrance of my little room. His head was almost grazing the roof. He scanned his surroundings and I felt nauseous, not from anything that I had eaten but from the nervousness that blew on me. He was in my domain, my room. No one had been here in the past four years. My wolf was anxious too. It wasn’t untidy, the wooden floors needed a fresh varnish and the peeling floral wallpaper needed replacing, but to me it was still my place, my little hideaway.

"You read," he finally spoke as he scanned through my collection of books.

"Yes, I love reading," I squeaked.

"As do I."

I couldn’t trust my legs anymore. Deciding that I don’t want to fall onto my face due to my nerves, I decide to slowly crumble onto my little bed. He stared at me in amusement. It was clear he relished the feeling of seeing me nervous. A side effect of being a dominant male is that sometimes they have jerk tendencies.

He walked towards my small pile of books, my eyes never straying far from his silhouette. He picked up and put down a few, almost at random, then he stopped at one, the one I had been reading, the only book that was casually left open at the far end of my makeshift shelf. I scoffed, and he smiled. Of course he was teasing me. He had known that the book had been there. He had seen it as pure as day, yet he chose to seam through the rest for fun, just to see what I’d do. He was clever.

"Sense and Sensibility," He read it out loud. "You like Jane Austin,"

"Yes, I do."

"Read it to me," Of course I’d read it to you, you lovable oaf, How can anyone say no to him, even more so when his eyes were shining so brightly as if they were made out of stardust.

He came closer to me. I found myself moving farther and farther along the bed till my back was nestled on the corner of where the walls aligned and he let out a firework of laughter. As he handed me the book and climbed into my bed, And I felt my body still. It was then that I noticed he still hadn’t put on a shirt. I was all too aware of him. The wooden bed creaked at the combined weight of us. The way he sat next to me, the way he lifted his feet onto the bed, and the way he laid his head on my lap like how a small boy would, it was endearing.

My hand, with a mind of its own, reached out towards him, stroking his long, curly mane as it spilled like water along my lap. I wasn’t nervous anymore; it felt right.

He felt right.

I smiled, probably for the first time that night, and I began to read.

He stared at me, occasionally looking away to stare outside the window at the falling snow, but his eyes always came back to me. He would brush his fingers silkily through my lips and my cheeks, sometimes my forehead, almost as if he was restraining himself. The hours ticked by as he laid there and I read to him. And in that moment, I was happy.