“Fuck,” she pants, and it’s clear the moment everything dawns on her when she tenses up. “I’m sorry, I don’t usually do stuff like that so soon wi-” I cut her off with a hard kiss, not pushing for anything deeper than that.
I need her to understand that it’s not necessary, that she doesn’t have to explain herself or justify her actions. With the blinding haze the mate bond has had me under, making everything else in the world seem not nearly as important as claiming her, I’ve overlooked far too many things that I otherwise would have realized months ago. She’s been pushing me away not only because of her fear of hurting me and needing time to wrap her head around everything that happened to her, but she hasn’t been allowing herself comfort because humans have self-destructive ideals and ridiculous social standards they hold themselves to.
To me, she’s mine. That’s all there is to it, and I want to spend the rest of my existence learning everything that makes her tick, having her writhe beneath me as I fuck her senseless, and find new ways to surprise her and make her smile. To her, I’m just... some guy that saved her from a bad situation and brought her home with him, keeping her locked away. I’m a walking, talking red flag.
She’s notsupposedto be okay with any of that, should demand that I take her home. She’ssupposedto date someone for months before deciding if she wants to be in a long term relationship with them, let alone move in together. And she’s certainly notsupposedto hop into bed with a guy she just met; not for comfort, and certainly not for sex.
Humans are so hypocritical and backwards in their thinking that it makes my head spin. They deny themselves joy like they don't deserve it, and those that choose to take it are labeled as easy, as if vaginas are conquests. They get off on the hunt instead of the actual sex, coming a few times before moving on to chase the next person that catches their interest.
And they call shifters predators,I mentally scoff.
My sweet Scarlett denies herself comfort because she doesn’t think she deserves it, like she should be ashamed for wanting her mate. Andthatsimply won’t do. While integrating her into society may be an uphill battle, this? This is something that I can fix.
“Would you like to go on a date with me?”
She blinks up at me, not following my train of thought that led to such an abrupt question. “Um, okay. Though I don’t think getting chased out of town with torches and pitchforks sounds like much fun.”
Smiling, I roll us over, hovering above her. Her lips are plump and swollen, a healthy color in her cheeks now and all traces of nightmares temporarily chased away from her usually haunted eyes. “Leave that to me. Six o’clock?” At her cautious agreement, I kiss her once more before climbing off of the bed. “Casual or fancy?” Interpreting her silence as being nervous to sound demanding or like a burden, I nod to myself. “Fancy it is.”
Striding out of her room, I cross the open expanse of the living room. Light floods the entire penthouse from the floor to ceiling windows on my left, casting everything in a blinding, golden haze. The center of the room is recessed, a black leather sectional wrapping around three-quarters of the cube, a glass coffee table in the center, and faces away from the windows, a massive television taking up the better part of the wall with the elevator door to the left of it. Leaving Scarlett’s room behind, I round the couch, entering my room that’s directly across from hers. Quickly grabbing my clothes, I retreat back out, the bathroom nestled in the corner between my room and the wall of windows.
Hanging my suit on the back of the door as the water warms up, I strip, climbing into the shower. I hiss in a sharp breath as I wrap a hand around the base of my cock, pre-cum leaking from the tip at the slight pressure. But still, as I picture Scarlett’s face as she came on my fingers, her eyes wild and lips stained in my blood, the volatile energy in my system is quiet for once. Even as I bite back my groan, cum painting the black tiled wall in front of me, it remains silent. And that peace simply makes me rush to get around faster, anxious to start setting my plans into motion. Because for the first time in months?
I’m confident everything is going to be okay.
Chapter 3
Scarlett
––––––––
The elevator makesa small chime, and I set my book beside me on the couch, surprised Malcolm is done so early. Though, I suppose after this morning and the way I caved, agreeing to a date, he probably thinks he’s getting lucky. But as the door opens, there’s no one inside. Furrowing my brow, I climb up the few steps from the pit the couch is nestled in, crossing the living room. There’s a large, flat white box inside, a silk ribbon tastefully wrapped around at a sharp angle.
Taking it with me as I return to sit on the couch, the elevator door soundlessly closes behind me. There’s a thick piece of cardstock tucked beneath the ribbon, and as I scan the card, I shake my head with a smile at Malcolm’s familiar handwriting hastily scrawled across.
To keep you busy until tonight.
