He doesn’t pressure me or argue that he thinks I should, he simply offers support, the knowledge that I’m not alone in this anymore. Squeezing his hand once in silent thanks, I go back to picking at my food. There isn’t a doubt in my mind that if I were to come up to him at any point and say that I changed my mind, he’d drop whatever he was doing and make it happen.
Maybe these gods are actually onto something with picking out peoples’ mates.
All I’ve ever really wanted was someone I knew that I could count on, that treated me well and left no doubt in my mind that they wouldn’t jump ship the second things got hard. All of my previous relationships fizzled out for a multitude of valid reasons that showed we weren’t a good fit for each other, but a big one was that after the initial first month of excitement a new relationship brings wore off, there was no spark. With Malcolm? It’s a damn lightning storm. I never thought about arranged marriages before, but he is... he’s exactly the sort of guy I’d go for.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I try to find a nice way to ask, but there really isn’t a tactful way to admit that in all the time I’ve been here, I don’t even know the most basic information about the guy, so I decide to go for broke and hope his spontaneous request for a date was because he was feeling the same way.
“So, how old are you?”
He doesn’t so much as skip a beat, so I breathe a little easier. “Thirty-two.”
“Twenty-eight.” He tips his head in acknowledgement, pausing to refill my glass. “And since we’re getting the basics knocked out of the way; Scarlett Brielle Anderson.” I pop another bite of chicken in my mouth as he sits back down.
“Malcolm Benjamin Drake.”
Coughing, I start choking on my food and he flies out of his seat, rubbing my back and offering me my wine that I guzzle down greedily until I can breathe again. After a few heaving breaths, I turn to face him head on, wide-eyed and sputtering.
“Excuse the hell out of me, but did you just say Malcolm motherfuckingDrake?!”
He gives me a strange look that I’m having trouble deciphering in my mini freak out. “Yes?” His cheeks tint pink.
“As in Drake Enterprises?” I confirm, reaching a shaky hand for the bottle of wine. I don’t even bother with my glass this time, taking a swig straight from the bottle.
“You’ve heard of it, then?” he asks, the hint of a smile peeking out from behind the blase’ mask he’s going for.
“If you’ve got hospitals halfway across the country, I bet you can’t go twenty minutes out here without seeing your logo slapped on the side of some building or billboard. Fuck, I think I still have a pen a drug rep left behind that I took from my last check up.” I take another drink. “I was ahealth insuranceclaims rep. Do you have any idea how many patient accounts I’ve been able to wipe out over the years helping people apply for the medical relief grant?”
His lip twitches. “You’ve spent four months in a penthouse, what did you think I did when I left for work?”
I toss my hands up in the air, borderline hysterical. “A lawyer? Trust fund baby turned investment manager?” Running a hand through my hair, I huff. “I thought this was some fancy apartment building, not your company’s home base.”
He glances around the apartment and his amused expression falls a fraction. “Are you disappointed?”
Staring at him like he has three heads, I slowly emphasize, “No, I’m having an identity crisis here. I was a nobody before the attack, and I’m a pain in the ass, needy burden, now. Not exactly prime mate material. You could have anyone and anything you possibly wanted, and you’re focusing your attention on a hot fucking mess?”
Resting his elbow on the table as he cups his jaw, he patiently waits for me to run out of steam. “You’re hot, but not a mess. You’re someone that went through something horrific and traumatic, and managed to come out the other side where thousands of people before you never did. You’re fascinating, not just for the insight you bring to the table about vampires, but because you specifically, are amazing and interesting. I love seeing how you view situations, challenge my perspectives, and I adore the way you strive to push your boundaries, to be more than what someone decided to make you.”
He reaches out with his free hand, stealing mine and using his thumb to rub circles on my wrist. “And I love being the thing to put a smile on your face, even if it’s only for a brief second. Why wouldn’t I devote my attention to you?”
“It’s just because of the mate bo-”
“Bullshit,” he cuts off, voice sharp. “You’d be my perfect mate without the bond because you’reyou.All the bond does is get rid of the guesswork like a giant sticker that says ‘here she is, dumbass. Look no further.’ It intensifies everything, yeah, but that’s simply the biological desire to protect and provide for the person you care about. It doesn’t create something that isn’t there.”
Intense, hazel eyes bore into me, filing away every twitch of muscle, my shallow, rapid breaths. He simply continues tracing languid circles on my pulse, like he’s dialing back the speed and encouraging it to match his own steady heartbeat. No demands, no outbursts, just absolute certainty of his life and my place in it. Even as I constantly give him reasons to chuck me aside, he ignores them, trusting in the bond like it’s gospel to guide his path.
Gradually settling down, I nod once, slowly. “Okay.” A heavy breath of air rushes from my lungs as I nod again, less hesitant. “Okay.”
“Want to call it a night?” he asks, and I shake my head.
“And miss the golden opportunity to convince you to put some effort into making a form of birth control with less side effects? I think not, good sir. Hope you brought a back up bottle of wine, because it’s going to be a long night.”
His answering grin is a mile wide as he whips out his phone to get a bottle sent up as I polish off the first, steadying my nerves.Okay. I’m doing this. If he’s all in, then so am I.
