It's probably a curse to let love fizzle into hatred, but it's not my fault that I feel this way.
Hunter Black is the one to blame, and I can barely stand to meet his eyes.
As our little group begins to disperse when Tyler and Arianna retreat for the wedding night, Dominic excuses himself to grab a drink with Sean at the bar, leaving Hunter and Nicholas to turn to the crowd and make calculated observations about the other members of Tyler's pack—they always enjoyed what they call “people watching,” speculating about what people are saying or what’s going on in their minds based on their facial expressions.
It was something I used to do with Hunter myself,
I turn to the other she-wolves, desperately wanting to avoid Hunter.
“So, two days, huh?” I grimace at Cecelia, who giggles lightly.
“Well, thanks for giving me the news. Goddess knows I'm tired of carrying him. I feel like I've been pregnant forever,” Cecelia laughs nervously.
“Pregnancy suits you, Cece,” Emily squeaks pleasantly. “I've done midwife duties in Silverfang before, and not all she-wolves are as radiant as you are while they're pregnant.”
“Well…thanks, I guess,” Cecelia cringes, her expression only mildly grateful. “Dom says we'll be heading back to Nightmist tonight. He wants his mother and sister to be there before I go into labor, and truthfully, I need my best friend.”
I giggle with a knowing nod. “Of course. Well, Dom only needs to signal for us, and we'll be there as soon as you go into labor. Promise,” I say with a glance at Emily, who nods in agreement.
Dominic and Sean return, allowing me to mentally crawl away from the conversation, slipping to the bar where I can get a refill of the sweet punch that only mildly eases my nerves.
As soon as the glass is filled, I turn slowly, one elbow propped on the counter as I observe my friends from afar. A pang of longing and guilt enters my chest, squeezing my heart with the tightness of the memories I'd buried when I retired from black ops.
It's not like I could ever truly escape the bonds formed during the years I spent conducting critical, dangerous missions alongside my team to ensure the safety of the werewolf race. It's the family I made out there by choice, even if one of thosebonds became the single needle that pricked the bubble I was in, deflating my spirit as it shattered my heart.
Sighing forlornly, I finally relent and let my gaze drift over to Hunter, where he stands sipping a beer with Sean, Nicholas, and Dominic.
His lips part, and I can't help but follow the movement, my eyes fixed on the full, moist bud of his bottom lip. His tongue slips out, the tip skimming that bottom lip as he licks the traces of beer left there from his last sip.
My heartbeat quickens as memories of his tongue painting pictures on the canvas of my naked body come crashing into me like rigorous waves on the eve of a full moon, hauntingly arousing as I remember the pleasure only he could administer.
What's worse is that I can see his side profile now, the way his jaw clenches and unwinds every time he speaks, and I imagine my finger tracing his prominent jawline and feeling the bristles of his dark facial hair brushing my fingertips.
My lips part as I become consumed by the memories, my body's natural response to let the floodgates open, allowing moisture to pool between my thighs. That's when Hunter turns, ensnaring me with eyes blackened with lust, with knowing, as if he sensed my ogling and was called to catch me in the act. Dark eyes rake over my body, leaving goosebumps in their wake as if he's physically touching me.
Goddess…he's a fine specimen of a male werewolf, a breed of his own, and I let my eyes wander for a bit, indulging in this silent appreciation of each other's existence despite what we agreed on. The sexual tension could be cut with a knife as sharp as the one he'd used to slice through my heart when he rejected our mate bond, but even that feels like a mere inconvenience in the wake of the few seconds it takes to drag my gaze overhis body. I bite my bottom lip as my eyes travel over his broad shoulders, down his thick arms that are covered in intricately detailed tattoos up to his neck, covered now by a suit jacket whose seams cry out in agony, ready to burst at the tightness.
Gulping hard, I quickly darted my eyes back to his face, not wanting to go further down where something else would be bulging at his tightly-fitted suit, just like his arms.
But the impact of his gaze alone leaves me squirming, and I'm snapped out of the daze I shouldn't have allowed myself to be lured into when my cell phone rings, the hip beat of the ringtone sounding so out of place that I end up laughing nervously at myself as I turn toward the back bar.
My trembling fingers reach into my bag to get my phone out, and I groan when I see my father's name on the caller ID.
“Hello, Father…” I greet in a measured tone, closing my eyes and bracing for the inevitable impact.
It comes when Father reminds me of my betrothal to the Lycan Prince.
“Damion Hastings will be flying to the States from Estonia in the next week for your engagement. We will host the party locally, in Scarborough,” Father informs me as my heart sinks.
“M-my engagement p-party…” I mull over the vocalized thought defeatedly as I open my eyes and glance back at my group of friends, as if searching for a small flicker of hope, help, anything to get me out of this mess.
“Yes, Delilah. As you are already aware, your engagement to the prince has already been arranged. All that's left is for you to be here when he graces us with his presence, be yourusual charming self, and go through with the logistics of the engagement. Your mother—”
I groan to the side as I listen to my father list all the things my mother is preparing for the engagement party, and I hang my head in shame.
How can I disappoint my mother when she's the reason I have my witch abilities? It's her support that got me through the darkest days when I had no control of my powers, and I can't imagine my spirit being as fiery as it is without her.
But this is something she wants—something both my parents want—when I don’t.
