Her gentle Beast

An offer

*Isadora*

 It is past ten o’clock when he walks through the door, and I i instantly know he is here, despite having my back to the door. I put down the two tall glasses of beer in my hands and turn. Every fiber of my body is feeling him. And there he is, tall, broad and looking right at me.

 I am however surprised to see that he is still standing at the doorway, looking like the sight of me is somehow totally captivating to him.

 Saying that his gaze slams into mine as our eyes meet is putting it very lightly. There is something about him that makes me feel like his body is brushing up against mine, but it is not a bad feeling like when Butch pulled me down no him … no this is a way that makes my n*****s harden, treacherous things, and my breathing deepen.

 Breaking the eye contact, and trying to collect myself, I hurry up to the bar to collect the order of drinks, ready to be taken down to one of my tables.

 Please don’t choose one of my tables. Do choose one of them. No don’t. Please do.

 Of course he does. Actually he walks to the back and sits down at the exact same table as yesterday. I realise that I have never seen anyone else sit there. Maybe it is one of those unwritten rules that no one else can sit there but him.

 “Tequila, the best we have”. I tell Sam, as I pour the last beer for one of the other tables. I hurry down with the beers and return to pick up the tequila, heading for his table.

 I wouldn’t call it a full on smile, but there definitely is a slight movement to his lips, like he might be tempted to grin, as I put the glass in front of him. It makes me feel funny inside, like my body has been invaded by a thousand butterflies.

 “So you remembered what I prefer to drink”.

 “Luckily my memory lasts from last night till now, and also a little longer”. Seriously, have I misplaced my lungs or something ? It is near impossible to breathe. “By the way, Butch apologised”.

 He turns his head slightly and leans closer, like he has a hard time hearing me, but that is not at all unusual here in the bar. With talking, laughing, the jukebox and all the other sounds of people having a good time, it can be hard to hear people sometimes. I have done the same myself.

 “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you”. He says softly.

 I speak a bit louder and lean in too. “Butch apologised to me … actually he was very profusely about it”.

 “I am happy to hear that”.

 “He wanted to make sure I told you, it clearly meant a lot to him”.

 He just nods slowly.

 “So do you often threaten people to break their fingers ?”

 “Not always just their fingers. I do not tolerate men who do not treat women right”.

 “Even if you don’t know me at all ?”

 “Knowing you means nothing when it comes to make sure you are not being harassed”.

 “But I could be a total b***h”.

 His mouth might not be smiling but his eyes are, which for some reason serves to make him more dangerous, more approachable and more charming.

 “That would not really matter”.He kinda sinks into the hard wooden chair, like it is the most comfortable armchair in the world. “You don't speak like you come from around here”.

 “Well, you don't Exactly sound local either”. Actually he sounds like he is born to a pack too. But I have heard of his family, apparently all the kids are bastards. But despite being unwanted and looked down upon by most of society they have educated themselves and risen above their humble beginnings.

 And if you listen to all the rumours all of them are doing really well, moving among the nearby packs and rubbing shoulders with important people. All except him. I have seen him once or twice for weddings at a distance, but elseway, not before here.

 “I do think we grew up very differently though. Was I right in assuming you grew up in a pack ?”

 “Why do you even care ?”

 “Why are you scared that I do ?”

 I look around, making sure no other guest is in need of me, wishing by God that someone would wave me over. I turn my attention back to him. He is like the sun melting a block of ice. He won’t stop before I cave in. “Yes, I used to live in a pack”.

 He seems thoughtful and his eyes narrows slightly as he looks me over. “So you are a ranked wolf then”.

 “Nope”. I used to be but I am no longer. “You are mistaken in that assumption”. He might not have been if he asked me three months ago, but now he is. On the other hand, back then I would not have been bringing him drinks, and we would most likely never have talked. I would have been happy about that, but only because I wouldn't have known how he had the power to look at me as though no one else exists in the world.

 “I am not usually wrong”.

 Wait, is he low key calling me a liar here ? “That sounds very arrogant, and yet somehow you managed not to sound arrogant while saying it. Actually you managed to sound humble”.

 Another wait, am I flirting ? No I do not flirt, not anymore and especially not with him.

 “If truth comes with confidence; it doesn't require arrogance”.

 “You're a philosopher, then”.

 His shoulders lift in a shrug. “I would bet that you were trained to be high in the hierarchy, the wife of a beta, Maybe even hopes of becoming a Luna one day. You were not meant to serve, but to be served”.

 “It’s not a bet I want to take. I have been educated, yes”l this is getting too close, he is too curious. I can not have him reveal the truth. “Sorry I have to run, I have other guests to attend to”.

 “I have an offer for you”.

  Oh, I wish he hadn't said that just as I am beginning to like him. “You and half the men here. I'm not interested”.