The Mates of Monsters
Chapter 41

know the weight won't budge until the majority opinion is heard tomorrow.

David's fingers dance around my bruise as light as feathers tickling my skin-a skater spinning around a frozen pond. His other hand is in my grasp, massaged and felt by my own mindless fingers and anxious movement. The results of my speech sit on my chest, and I "You did very well," David tells me for the seventh time since I finished this morning. I spoke the final, improvised word, stepped off of the podium, returned to him, and it's the first thing he said in a proud hush. "I think I'm ready to go home."

I rest against him on the loveseat in our living room, my back to his chest, my head just under his chin. "Well, I'm sure Jeremy can arrange something in a week or two," he says, sighing.

I rise and twist my body to cure my confusion. "No. I didn't mean my old pack. I just-I meant our home."

David smiles a little in charming twitches of realization.

"I miss Helena and Jeremy, and being around so many Alphas and Lunas really is exhausting," I explain. "I just want to get through tomorrow, get back, and not do a single thing for at least two whole days."

"I think Jeremy can handle the loss of two days."

"Although, I will miss spending all this time with you. I guess that's the only downside to going home; you're always busy. But I get it, I do. Jeremy makes a good distraction anyway."

I readjust with David as he settles beneath me. "How about a few more self-defense lessons when we get back?"

With my girlish expressions hidden, I squeeze my eyes shut and say, "I don't know. I don't think I'll be able to fend you off."

"I'll go easy on you, of course. I just want you to have a good grasp of the basics so maybe next time Nicodra comes around, you can be the one choking him."

"I understand, believe me; especially now that I'm sporting this bruise. But I get too distracted with you. Maybe I could fight someone else."

David mutters, "I won't even take that into consideration."

With no warning, I ask, "Do you think Nicodra will let this go? Would he try to-"

A knock on our door interrupts my questioning. David moves from under me, and I stay on the couch as he answers, holding my knees to my chest. The voice that follows is as clear as day. "Alpha, I apologize for the intrusion. Is there any way you could accompany Horvat, Patel, and me in the second common room? It's concerning article B-which we discussed earlier."

My shoulders sink. David will be leaving me.

As expected, he agrees and leaves the door partially ajar while he steps into his shoes. "Brigette, I'll be back in a bit. This shouldn't take too long, alright?"

I squeeze my knees closer and rest my chin on them, feeling my hair tickle the sides of my thighs. "Okay," I confirm half-heartedly.

He strides over and kisses the top of my head before exiting and pulling the door closed behind him.

I sit there for minutes after like a puppy waiting by the door for its owner. Finding this entirely useless, I enter the bedroom and consider having a nap before it's time to dress for dinner. I lay on the bed, on my side, then my back. The silence welcomes the return of my pending proposition nerves, so I snip the thoughts in the bud and turn to the only other issue more powerful than the proposition: David.

I have undeniably opened my mind and body to him considerably over the past three days. Thankfully, I see this as a good thing. My climb on the ladder has taken me to new heights, but I would be lying if a said I didn't look down and worry about plummeting. I scoot off the bed and have a shower instead, unable to think myself to sleep.

I know our banter and flirting is all in good fun, but I always get flustered when he starts moving in on me, touching me, saying things that make my body cave in on itself.

There's no need to be shy, Brigette. I'm yours.

Let me take my time with you.

Not if you want me to be gentle.

I hold my head under the spray of the shower and let it wash away his words before they burn a hole through my mind. I slick back my soaked hair and blow water droplets from my lips, tasting a few as they slip inside.

It's like he flicks a switch inside of me, muddles my thoughts, and asks me to recall what I ate for breakfast. I can't think anymore. All I know is that he's my mate-an Alpha-and I have to have him. But of course, I have to stifle this need or risk looking like a sex-crazed maniac.

I shut the water off when I'm done and dry myself. The first few steps I take out of the bathroom are cautious. "David?" I call, curious to know whether he is back or not. "Hello?"

I proceed to get ready when no one replies.

With David still out, I abandon my towel and gather my clothing for dinner tonight. From the drawer, I take a matching pair of underwear, and from the closet: the silky, white gown.

I lay the gown neatly on the bed and examine myself in the mirror above the dresser after I put on the panties and secure the bra. I raise a brow when I determine that these tiny things could be worn by human women on their wedding night. My mother comes to mind along with those hundreds of films humans have made about weddings and brides and grooms. Veils-that's something I've never forgotten; the most fragile material worn in the way a goddess might. My fingers trickle down the invisible veil adorned atop my head, and my reflection half-spins back and forth.

I suppose I am already married, in a sense. Having a mate is like having a husband if only the sacrality and intensity of marriage were amplified tenfold.

I flinch when the bedroom door opens. I scramble and say, "Sorry sorry sorry," and cover myself with the twisted fabric of my dress. My hair tosses in the air as I look up to David, bent and pressing the dress to hide my creamy, lacy nothings. He leans against the doorframe and drags his gaze up and down my body rather than stepping out into the hall. "Are you just going to stand there? Do you want me to hobble to the bathroom like this?"

David smiles slightly and comes over. I straighten up and watch his face, wondering about time and control and breaking. My heart throbs when he takes the bundle of white silk and lifts it, untangles it. He brings it to the floor, and I carefully step into its center, balancing by placing my hand on his broad shoulder. He draws the dress up my body, over my underwear and skin until I can loop my arms through the dainty straps. He reaches behind and effortlessly zips me.

As he finishes putting me together, the distance between us shrinks. I don't speak a single word until he says, "I better get ready myself. I didn't expect to be gone for so long."

I take in air as my mouth opens-unsure which question to ask first-but instead of answering to his behavior, he ambles into the bathroom. My expression is plagued by confusion, and I glance into the mirror to make sure I am still myself and this is still real life. Finally, I call, "What happened to me being careful?"

David grabs the doorframe as if he will rip it from the wall. "I couldn't help myself," he says. "And I thought you like showing off, don't you? Prancing around nearly naked?"

"Well, only for you," I divulge bravely. "But you didn't give me any time to prance."

He leaves the doorway but I jut my hand out, halting him and his coaxing grin. "You made your bed," I say, "now you have to lie in it."

"And what of tonight-when it's time for that dress to come off?"

I shrug. "I guess we'll see."

David heads for the bathroom but remembers something midway, so he peers back and says, "We never had that conversation." "What conversation?"

"The one concerning your inability to behave," he clarifies.

"Hmm. I'm afraid that will have to wait until after dinner as well. Now please, get ready. I don't want to be the last ones to the table again."

David obeys, so I finish up, grab my shoes, and set them beside the couch as I wait in the living room. I lay back on the cushions in my luxurious, draping gown and try not to think too much about how exactly every one of our nights together from here on will be evolving. We'll be leaving right after the closing dinner tomorrow-shedding our evening wear and jumping on a plane out of this tundra. While I truly want to be in the comfort of David's house again, something about the change in scenery and schedules has me itching. Three days together and so much has changed; but what if old routines ease us back into old habits and manners? David will be busy, and I will be busied to cope with that. I have my own space in the guest room, but surely we'll still sleep in the same bed. There's simply something about this place; it drew things out of me that even I didn't believe I was capable of.

But we made a promise: I am his and he is mine, and that means something.

I throw my head back and stare to the side, letting my neatly-combed hair pour off of the loveseat. My arm hangs and my fingers circle the carpet like a pool of water, pushing out rings as I mindlessly prod. The quieted sounds of David getting dressed holds my attention as I try to guess what exactly he is doing by the hints of footsteps and drawers.

Please-I whisper to myself, a secret-keep moving forward. Keep your promise and be his.

When he leaves the bedroom and enters the living room, he grins at the sight of me and finishes buttoning his cuffs. I don't bother sitting up as he walks over, so he kneels and takes one of my heels in his grasp. His hand tenderly holds my foot as he slips the shoe on and ties the elegant, sensual strings up the half of my calf. He does the same endearing act with the other, and I find myself holding my breath.

David's palm strokes my freshly-shaved leg before he stands, and when he offers me his hand, I take it and bring myself up. "Thank you," I say faintly.

He swipes my hair off my shoulder but focuses on the bruise. The backs of his fingers brush poignantly against the purple mark, so I tilt my head into him, telling him it's okay.

"Let's go," I mumble.