Mine to Protect Chapter 16: CAR RIDE

*Hazel*

Do I want to spend time with him? Do I want to know him better? Deep down I know the answer to both questions, and that’s a big yes. Even if his presence makes me nervous and edgy.

“Ok, let’s go,” I say, looking the other way. He chuckles, then grabs my hand in his, and leads me toward his car. His hand is big and warm, it makes me feel safe and sheltered.

Suddenly I find myself asking him, “Do you also feel this kind of tickling sensation every time we touch?”

He replies smiling, “Yes, it is the mate bond. It’s normal between mates. The feeling will get even stronger after we have marked each other.”

“Oh!” It’s the only thing I manage to say. I always feel awkward when he mentions the marking.

We reach the car and he releases my hand to take out his car keys, and suddenly I feel cold, like he was the only thing keeping me warm. I want that warmth back.

He unlocks the car and opens the door for me. He has manners. Another point for this Alpha.

After I sit, he leans down to strap me in. I wasn’t expecting it, and his closeness makes me feel giddy; my heart thuds loudly, ready to leap out of my ribcage. When he’s done with the belt’s buckle, he slowly straightens up, letting his eyes burn a hot trail up my body, from my legs on show through the stockings, my stomach, my breasts, my neck, up to my lips. He lingers there, our faces only inches apart. I can taste his minty breath fanning my lips, but he doesn’t make the move. Kiss me already!

Disappointingly, he moves back and shuts my door.

I feel humiliated at his rejection. Why would he pretend that he wants to kiss me, and then leave me hanging like that? It’s cruel.

He gets in the car from his side and starts driving without saying a word.

There’s a tense silence between us, it’s uncomfortable, a stark difference from the atmosphere we had while holding hands a few moments ago.

I decided to turn the car’s stereo on, so at least I’ll have something to keep my mind on, before I implode.

Come on, come on, turn the radio on, it’s Friday night, and it won’t be long… Cheap Thrills starts blazing through the stereo. I like this song; unconsciously I start moving my head and shoulders to the rhythm of the music. I am lost in the beats for a while, then I notice the Alpha watching me intently, his eyes a little darkened.

“Don’t you like this song? I can change station.”

“I never liked it particularly, but I think from now on it’s going to be one of my favorites.”

My heart thuds at his reply, and at the huskiness in his voice. The tension rises again, I feel awkward, and I stop dancing. I don’t know where to look, so I just stare at my hands.

I hear the Alpha chuckle.

“What’s funny?” I asked him with curiosity.

“You.”

“Me?”

“Sometimes, you are this fierce little spitfire afraid of no one and nothing, then you go all shy on me, like now. Which one is the real Hazel?”

“I suppose both. And I might add another couple of Hazels to your list, they just haven’t shown their face yet. But mainly, I am just an introvert awkward person.”

“Why would you say that of yourself?”

“It’s the truth. I am not good at socializing, I have very few friends. I find it difficult to connect with people and I don’t trust easily. I prefer staying by myself, working on my projects, or just doing the things I like.”

“What do you like to do when you are all by yourself?”

“Nothing special, really. I usually look up stuff about design and architecture, listen to music, read books.”

“Ah, yes, I know. Hot romances seem to be your favorites,” he interjects, wiggling his eyebrows.

How does he know? How embarrassing!

“No, I prefer English poetry,” I lie shamelessly to his face.

“The books sitting on your night table say otherwise,” he replies with a smirk.

“When have you been in my room?” I asked appalled.

“When you fainted, and I had to carry your heavy self up the stairs to your bedroom,” he says mockingly.

“Mph! Aren’t you supposed to be a strong Alpha? It should have been like carrying a feather for you.”

“More like a small fearful kitten,” he laughs.

I roll my eyes, not knowing what else to say.

“Is your head still hurting?” he asks concerned.

“A little, but I think it will be ok soon.”

“Good.”

I smile lightly at him, becoming pensive. Yesterday he said that I need my wolf to start healing at were-speed; what about wolf suppressants? What’s going to happen to me now that I have stopped taking them? I should have asked mom for more information about this. I feel anxiety creeping in on me. What if I start growling and snapping at people?

I am so lost in my head, that I don’t hear the Alpa calling me, until he squeezes my hand.

“Hazel, hey, are you alright?”

“Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“Yeah, I could see that. What were you thinking about?”

“I was thinking, now that I am not taking the wolf-suppressants anymore, what’s going to happen to me?” I look directly at him, with apprehension written all over my face.

He keeps holding my hand, steering the wheel with his other hand. It’s soothing, and I feel grateful for his small gesture.

“It will take a few days for the effects of the suppressants to completely wear off, after all, you have been taking them for a prolonged amount of time. I think the first abilities to recover are going to be your sense of smell, sight and hearing; these are the ones that we develop first, that we are more attuned too. Following, speed and strength. Healing will come after your first shift, after that you will also be able to feel your wolf.”

“What about the growling and the sharp claws?”

He smiles amused, “Still have to wait for your first shift.”

“Which will happen after we mark each other?” I say, more a statement than an inquiry.

“Well, according to what your parents said, my mark is the trigger. But of course, when I mark you, it’s going to be consensual, and I figure you will mark me in return,” he says with an undertone of uncertainty. Like he’s asking me to declare my intentions.

I feel pleased knowing he cares for my approval. I always envisioned Alphas as ruthless beings, ready to take everything they want by brute force, including their mates. But he has shown me multiple times already that he is nothing like that. I am starting to trust him. He could have marked me against my will when he had me unconscious in his arms, or when we were alone yesterday. Instead, he has just been patient with me and consoled me.

I like him. I know it deep inside of me. But I can’t help wondering if it is real, or just the influence of the mate bond. Suddenly, a thought comes to my mind.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“If my wolf is bound, why do I feel a connection to you? I mean, I think, I should not be able to feel the effects of the mate bond, right?”

He smirks.

“Are you falling for me little mate?”

I blush tomato red and am unable to answer.

“Humans and wolves are both connected by the mate bond, so even without your wolf, you can kind of feel the connection. It feels a hundred times stronger after your wolf is awoken,” he says, while parking in a parking spot on the side of the road. Then he turns to me and comes incredibly closer; our faces are only inches apart, and my heart is beating like a drum.

“Like for me now, you don’t know how difficult it is to keep my lips and hands to myself, when the only thing I want is to rip your clothes to shreds and take you here in this car,” he whispers in a low husky voice, which makes goosebumps rise on my skin.

I swallow hard. My breathing is labored, and I feel wetness pool in my panties. He seems to know the effect he’s having on me, because he smirks, his eyes flashing.

“You don’t seem against the idea.”