Chapter 31 INAPPROPIATE ADVANCES

Chapter 31 INAPPROPIATE ADVANCES
Hazel P.O.V.

I open my eyes slowly. The sun blinds me with its strong rays. I shade my face with my hand and take in my surroundings. Grass. Huts made of stone. A forest surrounding what appears to be a small village.
So, I'm dreaming again. I seriously hope this time I won't turn Derek away. I need some romance. A bit of male-female action, if you know what I mean. Even if it's just in my dreams.
"Aren't you a dear? I would never have been able to carry everything by myself."
A female voice speaks coquettishly somewhere to my left. I turn around to see none other than Derek helping an unnervingly beautiful woman carry supplies to her hut. She's eyeing him like he's a piece of candy, drinking in his every move.
She opens the door to her hut and motions for him to enter. He does so without a care in the world. The woman shuts the door behind them, and the sound of it closing feels like a slap to my face.
I look away. Not interested in what's going on in there. Why would I care if he's alone in an unmated woman's house?
I get up from the grass—where I was most likely taking a nap—but I don't leave. It's like I'm rooted to the spot, waiting for something I can't name.
He's been in there at least five minutes. I'm sure because I've been counting the seconds in my head. My mind is already conjuring a myriad of inappropriate things they might be doing alone in that cozy hut.
Whatever. They can do what they want. It's not like I have a claim on him or anything.
But my feet have a mind of their own. They carry me straight to her doorstep, and before I can stop my treacherous body, I'm already knocking loudly on the door.
A few moments pass. I hear movement inside, but no one answers. Then suddenly, the door is pulled open by Iris. She stands in the doorway, blocking my view of the interior. I can't help noticing that the top laces of her dress are undone. My heart sinks. My throat goes dry.
"Can I help you with something?" She tries to sound polite, but her voice is strained, reaching falsetto notes in her effort.
"Yes, actually. I need some help patrolling the borders. Apparently, some witches have been spotted." It's a huge lie, but it's believable.
Annoyance flashes across her features, quickly replaced by a well-practiced apologetic expression.
"Gosh, you've caught me at a bad moment. I was organizing the supplies. It's vital they're sorted before the next batch arrives tomorrow. Can't anyone else help?"
Apparently, I'm not the only liar around here. The next batch of supplies isn't coming until next week, not tomorrow.
"I'll help," Derek offers, straightening his shirt and striding toward me.
His slightly disheveled hair and a red mark on his neck immediately catch my eye. Fire boils in my veins. So much for being my mate. I refused him once, and he's already making out with other women behind my back. I knew the mate bond couldn't be trusted. Something that makes you love a person without even knowing them? That's just sick and twisted. Unsafe. He could be a psycho for all I know.
I reluctantly nod my consent, unable to think of a reason to refuse him. Unlike Iris, whose face has now scrunched up in disappointment.
"But I still need your help with the supplies," she whines, trying to guilt-trip Derek into staying—when we both know she can handle it on her own. No help needed.
Derek plasters a polite smile on his face and replies kindly, "I'll help you next time."
Yeah. I'm sure you'll provide her with your "help."
Images of Derek untying her dress laces, feeling her curves with his big palms, making love to her right here in this kitchen—they swarm my mind. I storm off before my body takes control of my mind again and throttles them both.
Derek's footsteps follow close behind. The door shuts after us.
I walk straight to the village entrance and start patrolling the perimeter. I don't even spare him a glance.
He doesn't say a word to me until we reach the back of the village—far enough to still see the houses, but not close enough to hear the village sounds.
"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" he asks, still walking behind me.
"Nothing's wrong. I just needed help patrolling."
I try to sound neutral, but I can hear the coldness and irritation seeping into every word. I bet he hears them too.
He scoffs. So he noticed.
He doesn't say anything for a few moments. Then he states, "Nothing happened. I was just helping Iris carry the supplies. They were too heavy for her."
He's trying to sound sincere, but I can feel he's hiding something from me.
I hate how her name rolls so perfectly off his tongue when I never hear him say mine. And his last phrase—"they were too heavy for her"—feels like a reproach. Like he's insinuating I'm a bad leader for giving Iris a duty she can't handle. Like I'm somehow bullying her.
I would never assign tasks someone can't handle. That's not who I am. How dare he question that?
"She could have made two trips," I reply coldly, not turning around. "And I don't care if anything happened."
I feel his aura rising. He's probably getting pissed at my pissy attitude too.
"Sure you don't. That's why you look furious and close to murdering someone."
His sarcasm strikes a nerve. I spin around, ready to yell at him exactly how much I don't care about anything he does. But before I can utter a word, he's already wrapped me in his embrace. I can feel his heart beating fast through his shirt. His body is warm, comforting. His scent is equally soothing and alluring. I notice how his hands gently slide down my back, stopping at my waist. How his soft lips kiss my temple tenderly.
But what really gets my attention is the scent of Iris on his neck. And the red mark, still there.
Anger overrules everything else. I push him back, forcing him to let go.
He stumbles back a few steps, a frown immediately appearing on his face.
"If you knew I'd be upset, why did you do it? You claimed you care about me, and then you go and fuck the first woman who swoons at your feet!" I practically yell at him, not caring that my accusations might be inaccurate.
"I didn't fuck anyone!" he seethes, balling his fists but trying to control his tone.
"Then explain how her scent got all over you. And that pretty red mark on your neck. It doesn't look like a new tattoo!" I say scornfully. His frown deepens.
"She made a few advances, but I firmly refused her. And as I said, nothing happened." His voice is resolute. It's clear he doesn't want to continue this topic.
"Too bad I don't believe you!" I spit at him.
My heart drops when I see his pained expression. He's angry, but mostly he's upset—by my accusation and my refusal to trust him.
Then he composes himself. His jaw sets tight, betraying how much my words still wound him.
"You won't believe me, and you won't care anyway. So I might as well make the best of it and go fuck as many women as I can."
With that, he turns on his heels and storms away, leaving me gaping like an idiot.
Is he really going to…? Or did he just say that to hurt me back?
I have a feeling his words were empty. But the doubt remains. And the thought of him making love to someone else rips through my heart like a spear.
Then again, if he mated someone else, could I really blame him? I keep pushing him away, bruising his ego. Sooner or later, he'll get tired of chasing me. Maybe he already has.
The confusion and pain are too much to handle. Before I know it, I've shifted into my white wolf and am bolting through the forest, trying to clear my mind of him. Of the temptation of us.