Lycan's Fiery Mate

|| Chapter 6 ||

"Come on! Open your mouth for me," Taking a piece of apple from the fruit platter, I take that near his mouth, but that brat moves his face away from me and groans throatily in annoyance. I again move closer to shove that in his mouth like I have been doing for the last thirty minutes since our date started, yet he doesn't look ashamed of troubling me. Having enough of his attitude, I forcibly turn his head towards me with my hand grabbing the back of his head tight to keep him in his place. I defiantly hold his glare and push the fruit in his mouth, and in return, get beaten on my forefinger by that beetle hard. "Argh! You are annoying, know that?"

I take my finger in my mouth to ease the pain before turning my attention back to the fruit platter I have placed on the carpet, where we sit with some dry fruits, snacks, loofahs with a few boiled eggs, and one wine can for me and herbal water flux for him. From my storage, I manage to squeeze out two more candles, and I set them at a distance, in a triangular shape with one on his side, one on mine, and the other one across from us, not wanting that to burn my only carpet, the favorite one I love to carry with me in my trip.

"Like the arrangement of our date night, earl?" I ask him with my eyes glinting with mischief. It doesn't matter what he says because I know the place looks great, and our food, too, and then I am freshly showered with a clean towel firmly wrapped around me and his also, but that wouldn't have happened if I didn't have forced him to move to my cabin and use a wet towel to wipe him, keeping his briefs only before wrapping yet another fresh towel around him and my thin blanket loosely wrap around his upper body.

I have to boil more with those leaves for him and like it when he picks that flux and drinks by himself without me pursuing him. He doesn't say it, but I know that content is helping him in many ways. The fever is still there, but tears don't leave his eyes anymore due to his headache or pain in his wounds. Even the injuries on his face start to heal slowly. I know a wolf heals fast, but the effect of the tranqs could have delayed the process, and all the credit goes to Kikira for forcing me still to learn about natural healing techniques.

"I have a name," He grumbles in a low tone, without making any eye contact, of course.

"Really? The Tantrum King has a name too?" I look at him with wide eyes and snort. "So, may I have the pleasure of your name?"

I ask with my overly polite tone, which makes him cringe beside me. I have one hand wrap still around his neck to share my body heat with him to keep him warm with no wickedness in my mind, but I can't say the same about him, judging by the glances he keeps on throwing at my cleavage that lightly press on his uninjured bicep. I know he is restraining himself, but it won't last long. He will have them in his mouth with me underneath him and my legs around his torso as he will plunge his thing repeatedly inside me.

He glares at me and sneers, "I won't give you my name."

"Okay." I bite back a curse that I want to insult him with, but then I restrain myself. "So, tell me something about you."

I take yet another piece of fruit and bring that close to his mouth, but he moves his face away, saying harshly, "There is nothing to share about me." Oh, this brat!

"That's. . .sexy." I lie through my teeth. When his head snaps towards me, I grin at him and say, "With having nothing to share, I mean, Earl. What is your hobby, anyways? You don't have issues sharing that with me, now, do you?"

He rolls his eyes at me. Yes, he has the nerve to roll his eyes at me and then says, looking bored as ever, "I have no hobby."

I force him a smile only and shove that fruit in his mouth with. . .a bit of force. "What do you do on your weekends?"

No one puts this much effort into a stranger, but I am, at least, doing it against my better judgment. He would have lost consciousness by now, or even worse, like. . .getting himself killed in the middle of the war outside, yet he is acting like an ungrateful fool to me. Still, he is cute in my eyes. His crush on me is evident in his expressive eyes, but he only doesn't know how to confess that- without making a fool. . .out of himself. I am not that judgemental, but I have a thing with breaking guys like you.

"I have no time off on the weekends." He says monotonically. Lord, is this how my night will be going? My dating life sucks!

I see the little s**t lift the herbal water flux and take a sip, scrunching his nose slightly.

"Any skill?" I take a sharp intake and smile at him forcibly. "Favorite place for a trip? Or favorite position or preferences in bed?" Well, the last part, I mutter through my teeth, chewing the raisin in my mouth that I toss inside my mouth before picking up my wine.

He coughs out and nearly throws the water in his mouth on my face, but my one glare is enough to swallow the content. His eyes glint with a smile, which he soon covers with an emotion I fail to read until he says it. "I am not the kind of man you think I am."

My jaw slakes and drops to the ground, literally. "Oh, you- " Now it's my time to choke in my wine. I can't believe this. I rake this creature beside me with my eyes. . .impossible. Not someone who looks like a candy cane one can't resist. "Don't tell me you...,"

I gawk at him, waiting for him to deny the thing he shares with me, but no!

He stays quiet and keeps watching me unblinkingly. Oh, dear. I whine in my head and lift my palm to press on my right cheek.

With my eyes taking his feature in, I bite my nail taking my pinky finger in my mouth.

A strong-built man, he is. His callous hand is big and firm that one horny baby girl won't mind if he spanks her booties in angry red. His black locks are so smooth and natural that has the power to make a girl envious. Oh, let's not go to his thick blonde eyebrows because no matter how many times I tell Carol, the owner of a beauty parlor, to do something with my thin and connected caterpillar-shaped eyebrows, she always shakes her head no and tells me that I need to stop dreaming. I rub the corner of my nose with my ring finger and huff at the sight of his pecks peeking through the blanket around him, and I can't help but curse my rotten luck!

"Don't pick your nose." He suddenly lifts his hand and swats my hand away from my face. Glaring at me, he says, "It's gross."

I feel so offended that my face turns beetroot. "Hey, I am not--- well, never mind." Dropping the idea of fighting back, I shrug my shoulders like I do not care about getting ridiculed by him and plaster a smile on my face as I ask, "Saving it for your mate, earl?"

With that, I lift a blanket I plan to share after doing dirty with him, and then I drape that one over his shoulder, suddenly feeling it wrong to press my nearly naked body against the virgin wolf guy before scooting away from him. In between us, two healthy couples can sit comfortably without having a bum fight, which I keep repeating in my head to stop myself from shivering under his penetrating gaze. For once, I feel very strange. I don't know if it is possible even, but I sense his hurt in my skin.

I want to see his expression, but I am too ashamed to move. Soon as my gaze falls on the few pieces of cucumber on the fruit platter among the juicy berries and baby papaya, I pick them for him. "Have this." Looking into his eyes, I tell him, "You will feel better."

He looks at the fruit in my hand and then back to me. I do not know what is running in his mind now, but I am sure he will talk soon. I swallow the gasp when our fingers brush lightly, and he looks unfazed before dropping his gaze on his lap. The air around me suddenly thickens. It feels so suffocating that I lean towards the window, hoping to inhale the scent of the storm outside.

"I. . .well," He starts with his lips pressing tight. Turning my attention toward him, I freeze in my spot when he says, "She died the night after our first date." My eyes enlarge slightly. I feel my heart in my mouth in the way it starts to beat the moment he grits out, "To weaken my beas-wolf within me, they assassinate her. . .brutally and send her corpse to my kin- office in the morning."

My throat feels constricted.

His face gives away nothing I want to see, but a man doesn't cry. The white in his eyes is gradually turning red, and so are his knuckles whitening, yet he takes the slice of fruit in his mouth and chew like he says nothing just now that he is alright.

I reach for his hand and squeeze over it, staying rooted in my place. "I am sorry." It comes out as a whisper.

"Don't be." He holds my hand. . .the moment I decide to withdraw from his. "You don't even know her or me in person."

I watch him interlacing his fingers with mine as I ask softly, "Did you get a chance to propose to her, at least?"

"I didn't know what love was." The muscle of his jaw tickles. "It happened decades ago, and I was only twenty-one, working in the army." He lowers his head but never makes eye contact with me while he says, "Serving my country was strong, was something I was passionate about, and then she happened. I wanted to give her the time she deserved from me, but. . ." He pauses for a moment, looking as though he is having a hard time telling me what he did wrong, but I won't stop him. "She never was that demanding. And I wished she was. I wished I was there for her to hear if she was alright. . .that she wasn't feeling like eyes on her, watching her. Why didn't she call me? Why couldn't she trust me for once? Wasn't I capable of saving her? Why? Why did she have to do that?"

I stay quiet and move closer to him even before I realize it.

Pressing my face against his bicep, I hear the tragic death of his love while I recall my past self.

Once, I used to be that girl who was a sucker for romance and happy endings.

No matter how evil a person was in a book, I always wished for them to have a change of heart and have their happily ever after. I used to believe love is enough, that true love is the most powerful feeling that can heal anyone's heart.

Turn out those are just some vicious lies. I was wrong, and so were those who say to have faith in love.

When a girl loves someone, she tends to forget herself for that person. She can stay up for days and won't hesitate to reach out to friends and relatives she doesn't feel comfortable with, only for her man to know if he is with them, sound and safe.

A fight doesn't stop us from worrying about the person we love, but when it comes to a man, he just. . .stops caring.

So, the more I hear this man, things get to clear to me even more. His happiness was never genuine, but his sorrow is now. Could anyone blame him for choosing something beyond his control? No matter how a person looks powerful with status like that and wealth scattering everywhere around him, he is still poor with boundaries of concretes, limited time, and responsibilities.

"At least you didn't give that hope to her, right? Play with her feeling even though your wolf was dying to be with her if I am not wrong?" I squeeze his fingers with mine when he doesn't say anything after that. He doesn't need to when I know that feeling. "You were honest with her, and even now, after so many years, you have been loyal to her, trying your hardest to make it up to her."

That's what truly matters and nothing else. To me, at least, it is. I hold this man's gaze when he lifts his face, and I see him trying to search for something in my eyes. Maybe he thought I would judge him or make a crude remark, but I am not that bad in the heart. I can be cruel, a harlot, or an arrogant b***h with materialistic words, but I still care about others' feelings and am way too forgiving.

"I have done what I should have a long ago." He says firmly, holding a dark vibe in his eyes. With his gaze never leaving mine, he lowers his face until his nose touches mine, and I breathe in his scent. Strangely, now it doesn't feel wrong to me. The closeness is comforting, even though that look in his eyes leaves something unsettling feeling in my heart. It screams something; like I need to move away from him as fast as I can, but I stay where I am right now. "It may not be enough, but that is all I can do to avenge my mate's death and the family I lost." He pauses again, and this time, his expression softens. His tone holds helplessness as he says, "She had a sister I am raising now. . .not sure if I am doing it well. Being an only child to my parents didn't help either,"

"I am sure you are doing just fine," I say with a genuine smile playing on my lips. "How old is your sister now?"

"Sixteen and a few months." His eyes are on my lips now. He looks away from me, saying, "Her mother died in the delivery bed."

I lift my hand and caress his face. "I hope your sister is taking it well and appreciating you for the sacrifices you made for her." He deserves that respect from that little girl. He even calls her his sister, too. I can't help but wonder how she would be.

"As long as she's happy." He leans into my palm and closes his eyes. "I can bear with her tantrums and brattiness."

"Do I have to believe in that?" I gasp in shock; the fake one, of course. With my eyes glimmering with mischief, I ask him in wonder after bringing my mouth near his ear, "That someone has the guts to throw tantrums on the Tantrum King?"

I feel him shiver, and the tip of his ear turns red. He groans throatily and moves his face away from my touch, "Don't call me that."

And this makes me smirk, and his reaction gives me some confidence. Taking him by surprise, I climb on his lap and straddle him with my thighs on his sides. I raise myself to his level and place my hands on his shoulders. "What if I don't listen to you?"

His eyes scarcely widen, and he visibly swallows as I thrust my chest up. He stammers out, "What. . .are you doing?"

"I saw you watching me the whole time." I breathe out, not being able to sound strong. "The look you give me- " I lean into him, our bodies touch as I tell him with my eyes gazing on his thin lips, " -makes me feel things. So many things I can't express with words."

His eyes darken. "Don't provoke me." He hisses at me but doesn't push me away from him. "You don't want to play with me."

"I am not playing you or have any intention to, you know." I take my hand on his face and move his locks away from his forehead. It's soft and will feel damn good if I hold them into fists as he would be taking me. As if he has heard my thought, his hands reach my waist, and he encircles me with his hands before resting on my hips. My core feels warm and tingly, but I do not show that in my expression. My grip tightens around his neck, and I press my forehead against him as I tell him, "It's just that I want to help you to move on. . .and want you to use me and help me to get me out of my misery, so I don't miss someone who never deserved me."

His hands cup my arse hard, and his fingers dig through my towel around me. He has his eyes fixed on my lips, his gaze flickering as he stares deeply into my eyes to find the truth in my words. I do not lie to him or even have any ulterior motive anymore to get back to someone using this man. He doesn't deserve that after what he has been through, honestly. After all the struggle and sacrifices he made for someone he shouldn't be responsible for, this man has my respect, and I won't hurt him just because he is Blake's friend.

He didn't run away from his responsibility, and I appreciate it from the bottom of my heart.

But I still believe he needs to move on.

He needs to take a chance on himself and have his own family with his sister, who also deserves love and care.

I am not a better option for him, I know. He can choose anyone after blatantly rejecting me right now. It will piss me off; the rejection, but I will respect his decision and be understanding to him. It is not like I am dying for s*x. It's just that I want to get Blake out of my system, and there won't be anyone better than this person with whom I can connect with my heart without faking it off.

One of the many reasons I am into fooling around and refuse to get into physical activities. There was a time I used to feel disgusted with my body. I felt so violated after hearing Blake calling Isabelle his mate that I wanted nothing but take my life with my own hands. I was disgusted. Blake broke me, to an extent, that I felt nothing but an easy woman anyone could have any time.

It takes years for me to heal myself and make myself believe that there is nothing wrong with me and that I am perfect. A one-night stand won't heal me, but meaningful s*x can, and two words from that person I connect with very well. Even the name doesn't matter sometimes. . .just like years we spend with the person and dream of spending the rest of our life with him being my home.

A moan suddenly slips from my mouth, and my body jerks on his thighs. My grips around his neck tighten for His caresses on my bare butt cheeks, taking me off guard. The strokes are slow and sensual as he gropes my button with his shaky warm, and callous hands, and I can't help but take my bottom lips between my teeth and again catch the flicker of darkness in his eyes; a raw lust he desperately wanted all along to hide in him. Maybe he is feeling guilty about wanting me this much. His loyalty to his late mate would break today, and that's why his mind is telling him to stop. Then his gaze falls on my lips, and I see him swallow audibly.

"Kiss me." He rasps out, thirsty eyes holding demand. " I want your lips on me." Wrapping his good arm around my waist, he jerks me against his chest and growls out against my lips, "Now, bruja."

Just like that, I obey his command and lock my lips against his.