While the meeting wraps up, my mind wanders to Sophie, and the way her eyes changed color when she touched me andfelt the surge of healing. Perhaps humans can respond in ways only werewolves can if they're a werewolf's fated mate.
Wondering what’s going through Sophie's mind, I head back home after the meeting, only to spot her in the kitchen through the window. I slow down, putting myself at risk of appearing like a creep watching her move around. But seeing her after nearly the whole day, coupled with the two years lying between us like an elephant in the room, I can't help myself.
She vigorously scrubs a plate clean with a sponge before chugging a glass of water in one go, spilling some on her chest. It's like she doesn't care. It's like she's trying to distract herself.
It's like she's refusing to accept that there's anything between us after all this time, ormaybe she just has a lot going through her mind after everything. If it’s space she needs, she’s doing a fine job of avoiding anything else that might be heavy, like our mate bond.
Does she really not remember how I shifted in front of her, or is she still in denial?
She's stubborn, I'll give her that.
But she's also the prettiest creature I've ever laid eyes on as she messily bites into a sandwich, with ketchup running out from the corners of her mouth.
My chest pulls tight with an aching desire that awakened the moment I laid eyes on her the other night. I can't believe that I'd been so cruel to her, my only excuse being my determination to protect her after nearly losing her to a demon.
I lost her once to my own demons; I wasn't willing to lose her a second time to physical ones.
She's right here, where I can keep her safe, and it's about time we addressed the elephant between us.
As soon as I walk through the front door, Sophie stops chewing, slowly putting her sandwich down. She gulps before she rises to her feet, picking up her plate as if she's about to run. Again.
“Wait, Sophie,” I say, my voice firm as it bounces off the walls. I'm not sure if it's fear that stops her, or if she's genuinely interested in hearing me out, but I'd hate to think she's afraid of me.
She takes a deep breath as she sets her plate down with calculated precision. “What is it, Damian?”
Pursing my lips, I cautiously make my way toward her, careful not to startle her with any sudden movement. When she doesn't move, doesn't flinch, and barely bats an eyelid as she stares ahead at the fireplace, I take it as a cue to stop with a meter between us.
“We need to talk.”
“There's nothing to talk about.”
“There's…a lot.”
Sophie shrugs as she picks up her plate again. “I don't want to talk.”
She's about to walk out from around the table when I plant myself in front of her, standing there like a brick wall that won't move no matter what she says.
“What are you doing, Damian?” she asks without lifting her eyes, refusing to meet mine.
“I'm not moving until we talk.”
“So, now you're forcing me to talk?” she scoffs bitterly. “Was forcing me to marry you not enough?”
“Hmph! I'm not forcing you to talk, Sophie,” I sigh in frustration. “There are things you don't know, perhaps you refuse to accept, and it's about damn time you heard what they are.”
This prompts her to look up and meet my eyes, confusion and caution etched onto her face, her brows furrowed. “I'm listening….”
Relief washes over me, and I continue speaking. “I meant it when I said I'm protecting you. You said you didn't remember, but I think you do.”
Sophie gulps, her hands trembling on the plate. I move in swiftly to the plate from her, my fingers brushing her knuckles in a way that ignites a raging fire deep within my chest.
She feels it, too, I'm sure of it, because she gasps, her eyes flashing with a glint of recognition, the small gold flecks in the brown depths lighting up from the touch.
“I don't remember,” she whispers, but I shake my head slowly as I set the plate down on the table beside her.
“Stop lying to yourself, Soph,” I encourage softly, my voice dropping a decibel lower, my head tilting in an almost-bow, but high enough to stare at her through my lashes.
This close, I can hear the way she breathes, catch the inclining rate of her heartbeat, and feel her sweet scent filling my airways. It's intoxicating, but at the same time, it makes me internally chastise myself for ever being cruel to her.
