Tyler.
“Marking?”
I smiled at the pinkish hue that painted her cheeks as I nodded. Her innocence was endearing. Instead of coming on too strong, I opted for a much simpler explanation to soothe her senses. “Marking typically involves a werewolf biting his mate on the neck, leaving a visible mark to show possession as well as the transfer of a portion of essence to a mate.”
She paled under the moonlight. “Biting? You’re going to bite me?”
I didn’t know when a laugh burst out of my throat. “When you say it like that, it does sound like a terrible thing.”
“Isn’t it?” She blinked. “Won’t that hurt? I thought mating was the union of… genitals.”
I hadn’t thought it was possible for her cheeks to get any redder but here she was, proving me wrong.
“Genitals, huh?” I teased. “I wasn’t aware you were well-versed in the ways of mating. Tell me more.”
Her eyes cast downwards shyly. “I don’t know a lot, actually. I read books and stuff.”
“Hmm,’ I made a teasing sound at the back of my throat, enjoying the cute pink color of her blush. “Look at me, Arya.”
She did, almost instantly. My heart swelled with affection as she held my gaze. I wondered if she felt any semblance of affection for me. Hopefully, because I was falling for her and fast. Once we mated, every single shred of affection we felt towards each other would triple a hundred-fold.
“If you want, I could explain to you what the mating process would entail.”
Her hand shot out quickly. “No, no,” she mumbled, blushing. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”
Laughing, I decided to cut her some slack. Arya was beautiful when she blushed but I wanted her to be comfortable enough to have a proper conversation with me. “Tell me. What do you like to do?”
“You mean hobbies?” She reached forward for a grape.
“Yeah.”
“I like to read.”
I stared at her. “What kind of books?”
“Any kind. As long as it’s thought-provoking and deep.”
“Like poems and self-help?”
“Anything, really. I love words. I think of them as a window into the soul.”
“You, Arya, are a labyrinth.”
Some women were lost in the fire; some women were built from it. Even though Arya had been through hell at the hands of both her family and her pack, she was golden in this heavy, terrible world. Soft and gentle, yet there was a fire that burned deep inside her that threatened to char everything that stood in her way.
From the moment I’d set my eyes on her, something had captivated me. Just like right now, I was in awe of her. A masterpiece of tragedy. Sometimes I couldn’t decide if she was either wildly naïve or dangerously intelligent.
“What?” she asked, her eyes shining with a smile.
I loved the sound of her voice. “What’s your favorite word?”
She gave me a grin. “Ambidextrous.”
“Enlighten me.”
“Ambidextrous, as an adjective, characterizes an individual capable of using both their left and right hands with equal proficiency. In a broader context, it extends to someone who exhibits equal skill or proficiency with both sides of their body, including feet or eyes. The origin of the term can be traced back to the Latin words 'ambidexter,' where 'ambi' signifies 'both,' and '-dexter' denotes 'right' or 'skillful.”
“Christ,” I murmured, not able to resist the seductive curve of her lips as she spoke or the plumb flesh of her breast I could see rising out of the top of her night coat. Pushing forward, I grabbed her face and connected my lips to hers. She jumped in my arms, then slowly relaxed as I licked her lower lip, almost begging her to let me in.
She did, and my tongue slipped into her warm mouth. “So soft,” I whispered against her mouth as I felt my body come alive as our mouths danced together in a blissful rhythm. I wanted more but frightening her with my passion would not help. I also didn’t want her to think I was taking advantage of her staying here just to touch her.
With much restraint, I pulled away from me, our chests heaving. Arya licked her bruised lips, holding my gaze. “You called me soft.”
“I did.”
Chest heaving, she shook her head. “I don’t want to be soft. Soft has gotten me nothing but hurt and scars.”
I stroked her lower lip with my thumb. “Being soft doesn't diminish your strength. Both honey and fire share the same golden hue, each a force to be acknowledged.”
Her eyes shone with emotion. “My sister Alison isn’t soft. And nobody dares talk down at her.”
Not for the first time, I wanted to ask about her childhood. To be this damaged, she must have weathered many storms. “That’s the difference between us humans, Little One. Variety. And it’s the spice of life.” Plus, Alison sounded like a bitch anyway, but I would not be the one to tell her that.
"You don't mind that I'm different? That I might always need you to protect me?" she asked lowly.
"I would love nothing more than to be your savior, Little One. I know it's a stretch, but I want to be everything to you."
She smiled shyly. "And when you mark me, you'll be gentle?"
I held back a grin. "I swear on my life."
"Do you know when it will be?"
I'd thought of that. Nothing was keeping me from taking her right here and now. It was all I could think about anyway. So, what was I waiting for? But I knew. Arya wasn't just any woman. I wanted her first time—our first time, to be special. Planned to the utmost detail. I couldn't just take her on a balcony without any forethought. She deserved better than that. So, I would wait. For as long as it took.
"Soon, Little One."
It was going to be hard. How could I keep my hands off this woman when all I wanted to do was rip her clothes off? Especially now that she was clad in a night coat that left nothing to the imagination? I could see the luscious swell of her breasts and just because she’d sat down, the curve of her bum had been visible enough to hum my blood to life.
When my hand held her cheek, she turned her head to kiss the inside of my palm, that little action causing a plethora of fluttering inside my chest. “Thank you for everything, Tyler. You’re the first person I’ve felt safe with.”
Her words almost brought me to my knees. I had a suspicion that this woman—my woman—was half goddess, half hell, and I was prepared to break any bounds for her to live.