“I am determined.” He nuzzled into my neck. “There is a difference.”
I should have gotten up, reminding him we were taking things slow. But his arms felt good, and I needed this.Him.
“I want to know more about you,” I said instead. “We know the basics, but not much else. Your life in Lytopia. Your family. What you left behind.”
He pulled back to look at me. “You wish to know about my world?”
“I wish to know about you. Everything about you.”
His expression softened. Warmed. “I would like that very much, little mate.”
“We could talk while I make dinner?” I suggested. “I’m starving and emotional processing makes me hungry.”
“I will help with the cooking.”
“You know how to cook?”
“I can follow instructions. And I am very good with my hands.”
The way he said it made my stomach flip. “I’m sure you are.”
We headed upstairs to my apartment. I pulled out ingredients for pasta - nothing fancy, but it would do. Mal watched me with intense focus as I explained what we were making.
“So this is a date?” he asked suddenly.
I paused, tomato in hand. “What?”
“A date. I read about them in several books. A romantic evening where two people share a meal and learn about each other.” He tilted his head. “Is that what this is?”
I bit my lip. Looked at him. At this impossible werewolf king who read romance novels to understand me better. Who defended me without hesitation. Who made me feel safe and wanted and seen.
“Yes,” I said. “This could be a date.”
His smile was blinding. He crossed the kitchen in two strides and pressed a kiss to my cheek. Soft. Sweet. Over before I could process it.
“Then I am honored to be courting you properly, Gwendolyn Woods.”
My face heated. “Just Wen is fine.”
“I know. But I like the sound of your full name. It suits you.”
We cooked together. He chopped vegetables with surprising skill while I handled the pasta. He asked questions about everything - the stove, the pots, why humans cooked food instead of eating it raw like they did in wolf forms.
“Because we’re not wolves,” I explained. “We can’t digest raw meat as easily.”
“But you could if you were turned.”
I froze. “Turned?”
“If you accepted the mate bond. If I claimed you properly.” His voice was casual but his eyes were intent. “You would gain some of my abilities. Not shifting, but enhanced senses. Longer life. The ability to communicate through the bond.”
“How much longer?”
“Wolves can live for centuries. You would match my lifespan.”
Centuries. With him. The thought should have terrified me. Instead, it made my heart race for entirely different reasons.
“That’s a lot to process,” I said.
