“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” says Julien, his breath warm against the lingering ache from my new claiming mark.
All in all, I wouldn’t either. Things aren’t perfect and this relationship will take work, fated mates or not. Nothing about Julien and I has been easy so far, but things can only get better from here.
Right?
Twenty-Nine
Keir
Iwakeupalone.Again. Not the best feeling after what Julien and I shared, but I vaguely remember him saying something about going to talk to the pack elders before I fell back to sleep.
The world outside the window is dark, the only light in the room coming from the bedside lamp someone switched on. Still fuzzy from sleep, my brain tries to do the math—claiming sex at approximately midday plus how much time equals a night sky?—and comes up with Julien being gone for at least a couple hours.
That is not a good sign. The only reason Julien went to talk to the elders was to tell them about his newly claimed mate: me.
And there aren’t many ways to interpret the length of his absence. Either they’re planning a huge surprise party to welcome me, or Julien’s pack elders aren’t quite as accepting of the idea of a male mate for their Alpha as he and Remy claimed they’d be.
Between those two options, the latter is much,muchmore likely, and I have no idea what that would mean for me.
Julien and I are supposed to be fated mates, but as I’ve said before biology isn’t the same as psychology and I’m worried that now that the ‘biological’ component—claiming me so he’s no longer under the influence of the mating frenzy—is taken care of Julien’s pack will convince him to set me aside.
As overly pessimistic as my brain tends to be, I don’t think that’s a completely unfounded worry.
I’m not much of a catch being broke, packless, and unable to give Julien any heirs. Plus, it’s not like something similar hasn’t happened to me before. Not the fated mates part, that’s once in a lifetime, but the ghosting me after getting me into bed part, that’s an experience I’m familiar with.
And I hate it.
Did I make a mistake coming here? Have I completely fucked up? Maybe I should go…
No.I promised I wouldn’t run.
Blowing out a long breath, I try to pull back my rapidly spiraling thoughts. Sitting here and driving myself crazy isn’t helping anything. Least of all myself.
My stomach rumbles, dragging my mind away from the next avenue of doom and gloom it wanted to wander down. This is good. Hunger is something I can actuallyfix. Plus, focusing on food might help me stop overthinking everything else.
Shoving the blankets off, I swing my legs over the side of the bed. I’m wearing one of Julien’s too big shirts and a pair of boxer briefs with smiley faces on them courtesy of Remy. Julien’s shirt comes down to my thighs, so all the necessary bits are covered, and I don’t feel like trying to hunt down something else to wear.
My first stop is Julien’s palatial bathroom. If my stomach weren’t so empty, I’d drown my sorrows in a bubble bath in the huge jetted tub, but wallowing would not be productive or helpful. Instead, I empty my bladder, splash some water on my face, and fix my hair as best I can with zero product. How Julien manages to keep his blond locks looking perfectly styled without even gel, I have no idea.
I turn my back to the mirror, tugging at the neck of the shirt and trying to twist around to get a look at the claiming bite. The angle doesn’t show me much, just some redness, but it’s definitely there. Knowing that, having that ache to remind me I belong to someone now, helps ground me a little.
My next stop is the kitchen. I rustle through the cabinets and the fridge to find something I can put together for a quick meal. I’m not much of a cook, but I can manage cheesy scrambled eggs and toast.
I crack the eggs into a bowl, give them a quick whisk, add some shredded cheese, and pour them into a heated pan. Next, I stick a couple pieces of bread into the toaster. The bread is the super healthy, full of grains and seeds type that would not typically be my first choice, but it was all I could find.
When everything’s ready, I pour myself a glass of OJ—if I’m having breakfast for dinner, I might as well go all out—then take my bounty to the small table in the kitchen to eat. Alone. If I thought appeasing my stomach would make me feel better and maybe less neglected, I was wrong. Eating by myself just makes everything so much worse and gives all my insecurities the freedom to run around in circles in my head.
I dump my dishes in the sink, an asshole thing to do since the dishwasher isright there, but I’m feeling kind of petty at the moment. Then I wander into the living room and plop down on the couch. Julien has a Netflix subscription, so I take a tour through his history.
I haven’t known him for long enough to even know what TV shows he likes…
Julien’s taste is pretty eclectic. Mostly documentaries with some sci-fi fantasy stuff and even a couple of anime mixed in. Nothing concerning at least.
I spend a couple more minutes scrolling through and looking for something to watch, but nothing catches my attention. Blowing out a breath, I turn the TV off and set the remote down on the table.
Sitting here and staring at a blank screen is not a good idea. My thoughts are starting to spiral again and the longer I go without distracting myself from all the worries swirling around in the back of my head, the more likely I am to do something stupid.
Like run.
