The Mates of Monsters
Chapter 18

You want me and I know.

this conversation.

Of course he knows-we're mates. That is how mates are supposed to be. So if I'm aware of this, then why am I flustered? What is so shameful about desiring one's ideal match? Maybe it's just me. I know very well that my sober, defensive self would rather die than face "It's just how I feel," I say softly.

"Well, you know there's no need to feel embarrassed. What happened to all of that fire? You're stubborn, Brigette, but undeniably determined."

"I don't know. I know what I should and shouldn't do-according to that fiery girl-but now I just feel lost. If I'm not that girl, then I don't know who I'm supposed to be. I really thought that's who I was. Maybe it is. Maybe I just drank too much wine." David comes over and sits beside me. "Maybe you just need some rest. By morning things should clear up."

That girl would never let me be here with him now. She would never entertain conversations like the one we had in the hallway. "Then I don't want to fall asleep," I murmur.

"What do you want?"

"The same thing as earlier, as yesterday and the day before, and the day I first met you," I tell him, unsettled. "But I'm scared of what will happen now, in this moment, if I say it."

David swallows and looks away from me. He's thinking, and I wish I could study his face for a clue concerning what about. Doing as he did earlier, I hesitantly place my hand on top of his, simply enjoying the feel of him. "I've never loved anybody," I confess, "in any way. I've been told that those things are sacred, that the bond is sacred. If I can't be that girl, then maybe I can be what you need instead."

"Brigette "

"I know I've been a horrible mate, but maybe I can start being a good one. Please look at me."

David faces me with that same waning restraint. My heart fills to its brim and pulsates violently. I can't help but lean into him. He watches as I lift up and breathe in his air; the temptation of our closeness is irresistible, and without a second thought, I touch my lips to his. My hand falls on his thigh as I stabilize myself, needing to push further into him. It is a short, soft kiss, and I move back just far enough to see his reaction.

Every drop of blood flowing inside me rushes to my face and neck and fingertips. The sound of my thoughts swimming and drowning in my head nearly challenges the thump of my heart, so I push off of the bed and move away from him, wondering if distance will calm the storm brewing within. David follows behind me, saying things that I can't quite comprehend. I head out of the room, down the steps, and through the hallways into the kitchen. He's can't stand another minute of my silence, so he grabs me and makes me look at him. "Let's go," I propose with no context.

David-chest rising and falling with stifled fervor-asks, "Go where?"

I look back to the doors that open to the porch. "Out there. Outside. I just-I need release. I can't go on my own, so come with me." "You want to run?"

"Yes," I breathe.

He considers this-all of the possible outcomes of having me shift and run at such a time, all of the possible consequences. But he's the Alpha. He's bigger than me, faster than me, and although he previously stated his lack of enthusiasm for chasing after me it wouldn't be that long of a chase. I can see it on his face. He wants to know how badly I yearn for freedom, that is, if I still do.

David gazes past me and surveys the night. "Will you stay close?"

"Will you allow me to stray?"

"No."

"Then I'll be close," I promise.

"Stay with me," he says suddenly, "in my bed, where you belong."

"Is that a demand?" I ask as I leave through the doors. David follows suit and I turn to him when we touch grass. "Just don't look."

David obligés and lets me shift around the corner. I leave my clothes in a pile against the house then push off the ground, changing in the air in a mere second before returning to the earth as the beast I am so often not. My legs are sore-it's been too long. I prance around to get the feel for things again, and soon enough David's wolf appears. He nods in the opposite direction, knowing where to go.

Our roles change, and for once I'm the one on his trail. Together we run through the forest, under the waxing moon as it appears and disappears behind long, ominous clouds. I stare up at the glowing colossus when the trees thin out in a small clearing. David is around. He lurks like something truly terrifying, yet I am anything but terrified. I know he is looking after me. I would hate to be a helpless deer or rabbit when he is stalking in the night.

His wolf emerges from the shadows. I peer back, nothing but a curious, black wolf drenched in moonlight. The moment I kissed him replays in my mind, both a torture and guilty pleasure. I feel silly, like an amateur playing with someone who's mastered the game.

His large, ebony-furred body circles mine, and I stand still as he inspects. I drop my head to the side and fall with it, letting my body tumble to the ground. I roll and stretch-still adapting to being shifted-and David meanders up to me. I stop and watch him. He nuzzles me, bringing me to stand. There is no one around. In this form, there is no pressure to say the right thing or act the right way, but there is a looming sense of sexuality. The animalistic habits of being this way are looming over me, and such things nearly feel like routine. We are animals, and I contemplate survival. There is something so outlandish about needing him in that way to survive.

I nuzzle back before scampering off.

By the time I am ready to turn-in for the night, David is already leading us back to the house. My wolf body has been loosened up and exercised and now there is nothing I want more than to sleep deeply as a human. I haven't forgotten what David asked of me before our outing-he has welcomed me into his bed once again, yet my wine-tampered mind has been worked away. I have not been fully restored to that stubborn, mate-hating version of myself; however, I am anything but confident. The idea of merely sleeping next to him makes my stomach bubble in anxiety.

I return to my pile of clothes and quickly pull them on once my wolf has been traded away for my person. Just as I secure my pajama top, David comes around the corner. I jump and gasp and he brings me inside like a prisoner whose time is up in the courtyard. "Do you still want me to be with you?" I ask as he locks the doors. "In your bed?"

"I thought you would be hoping I forgot," he says as we gradually make our way back upstairs.

"Well, I just think that maybe now isn't the right time."

We reach the top of the steps and he tells me, "Then I will see you in the morning."

I nod and hold myself as we part ways. David retires to his room, and I, to mine. I face my lonely room knowing I can't wallow-I did this to myself, and if I was truly ready, then I would be with him. It's not the things he could do in the middle of the night while I'm fast asleep -strangling, unwelcome touching-it's the things I could unknowingly do-the tossing and turning and grabbing and cuddling. It's the proximity and aura of the bedroom. It's painfully suggestive, and I don't think my heart could take it.