Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight
It’s been a month since that kiss that was an official stamp on my third prince's mate status. But I haven’t set foot at the Royal Palace like the other mates to the rest of the seven sons.

I've been taken to work in a dragon and picked up in the same manner and brought the most expensive lunch on The Eat's menu and I can confidently say I'm in love.

This afternoon as usual he is at my house.

“When are you coming to the Palace?” he asks.

He is random like that, you just never know what he's going to ask next.

I hesitate a little. I had forgotten that I don’t know where he lives. Not exactly.
.
“I could come this weekend? ”

“Tomorrow after work?” he says.

It's Wednesday today by the way, I had forgotten.

“Yep that’s fine with me, plus I’m off on Friday anyway,” I say.

I still worry though about when he does his work. He told me he is at the quater by 4am every day so I shouldn’t worry about his work, he gets lunch hours too. Since then I’ve heard of three more brothers, Nick, Xavier and Alan. I’ve never met any of them besides those three at my restuarant but I know they’re all 'watching me'.

There’s been phone calls when I’m around and I’ve seen the fondness on his face when he speaks to them.

And I have been cooking ever since which has been followed by kissing and cuddling. I’m happy with that. But tomorrow could change everything.

Oh and I told Scott about my 'dragon princess' escapades, he says I need a prayer, plus a exorcism plus holy oil plus a psychologist. I’m ignoring him on that subject.

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When he arrives to pick me up in the morning, he doesn’t come in, I’m already late so I meet him at the front lawn. He’s standing by his beast, petting it.

I walk out of my house with two bags, my handbag and an overnight bag. It’s a good thing Mrs. Jones is on vacation this week otherwise I’d have been embarrassed walking past her with an overnight bag to a man I've known for only two months.

He is in jeans again, so I stopped checking his feet a long ago. He puts my bigger bag somewhere over the left wing but first, a hug and a kiss. He is always so warm, mostly his hands. I think he knows I get butterflies when he gets too close to me.

I can’t say I’m looking forward to this evening, but I’d do anything to spend time with him, even if it means going to his house or mansion or whatever it is that Princes can afford.

Infact, I’m starting to think I’ve been unfair here. This guy probably needs to be at the packs border but he transports me to work and buys me lunch everyday. No, this is wrong.

The day goes faster than I had hoped and by four p.m he is at the parking lot.

Traffic to the south is usually bad but since we're ten feet above, we are there in no time.

The dragon leaves us outside a gate with a long fence, you can’t really see the actual house from the outside but it is one of those typical low-cost subsidies. It’s a two bedroom house with two bathrooms. I scan it with my eyes and then I look at him, he knows in my mind I’m asking why we aren't at the Royal Palace, but he knows I won’t ask, and I know he won’t tell me.

“This is your house too now, I live here,” he says.

I noticed he said 'your' house, I've been saying, he is shady.

“Does that mean I can change the curtains?” I ask jokingly.

“You can change anything you want to change, except the person who lives in it,” he says with that “laughing but not joking” look that only he can pull off.

“It’s a nice house, I like it,”

He looks at me, seemingly impressed and relieved at the same time.

It is a nice house really, the only problem is colour coordination from the curtains to the floor tiles to the couches and pretty much everything else. It looks like ten different interior designers had a short at it.

I notice a guitar leaning against the wall in the lounge.

A call comes in, sounds like a problem with a rogue that has entered our territory. I see him panicking a bit.

“Sweetheart, I have to go somewhere, I’ll be back as soon as I can. There's a problem I need to sort out,” he says.

Yes, he calls me sweetheart, babe, love. I'd expected him to call me by my first name,Natalie, but he disappointed.

Now, I don't ask what the problem is because I’m the type that’s more comfortable with asking ‘what happened’ rather than ‘what’s happening’, partly to avoid being expected to contribute to a solution, rather I get involved when it’s come and gone.

I let him go after assuring him that I’ll make myself at home. The house is clean so I decide to go take a shower, a very quick one. I'd probably win the world record for the shortest shower time ever.
J
No shower gel, nothing in this bathroom, just toilet paper. I empty my toiletry bag and line my stuff on the space by the hand sink. If I’m going to be here the whole weekend I might as well unpack.

After taking a shower, I’m still undecided on what to wear for the night, good thing he isn’t here because now sexy lace boy-legs and top, long winter pyjamas and silk nightie are lined on his bed. Eventually I settle for the lace and a silk robe on top.

He’s still not back, I think about calling but urgh, maybe not. I decide to make some tea even though I don't really like it, just to pass time, but there are no tea bags, no sugar, in fact the fridge has more alcohol than actual food. Geez, I’ve never really asked him if he drinks or not. There’s literally nothing to eat in this house.

The door opens. He goes to every room in the house first until he finds me in the kitchen, but he doesn ’t come in, he stands at the entrance and stares.

Finally he says: “This is exactly how I imagined it would be”.

I’m not sure what he is on about but I walk towards him to give him a hug. Good, he brought food.

“Problem sorted?” I ask.

“Yeah, nothing fangs like mine can’t solve where illegal immigrants are involved,” he says, and that’s all he’s going to say.

He draws me closer to him, starts unfastening my robe and I flinch. He notices.
“I want to see you…” He says, looking into my eyes but still unfastening.

My robe drops on the floor before I can gather strength to protest, I am now semi-naked with only two pieces of lace covering probably a quarter of my body.

He looks at me, like I’m a pot-plant or some sort of decoration. I’m not sure what to make of this. I keep thinking he’ll let me go and have dinner first but his hands are already running on by back, we are kissing before I know it and my arms are under his arms and hands at the back of his shoulders.

I should be cold standing in the kitchen with only sleepwear on, but I’m not. The kissing gets deeper as he picks me up and puts me on top of the kitchen counter. My legs are wide open and he's standing in between them. I want to push him away, but I can’t because I want him to continue, but I can’t let him.

Hands are now running under the clothes, yeah, that’s my cue.
“Carl, wait…” I say, defeated.

He looks at me, eyes a little smaller than usual, it’s like I’ve woken him from deep sleep. “What’s wrong?"

“No wait I can’t,” I say.

Now he is fully focused, he looks either scared or stressed by all this. I gently push him aside, jump off the counter, pick up my robe and walk to sit on the couch. I don’t know what he is thinking but I’m thinking right now he's probably saying to himself: “this girl is starting to annoy me”.

I read somewhere that a wasted erection causes a short temper.

But he's not angry, he’s following me looking worried like I'm going to tell him I’m a man or something.

I sit on the far end of the three sitter couch, my arms wrapped around my waist and my hands clenching both ends of my robe. I do that when I’m nervous, I clench onto something.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks, now standing in front of me.

I look up to his face, I can’t read his expression. I don’t know what to say so I say nothing.

He bends a bit forward, low enough to put his left hand between his legs and pull forward the coffee table behind him. He sits on it. He is facing me, his legs open and both his knees pressed on either side of where I’m sitting. I realize he has me completely closed in, I won’t be able to run if I have to.

I’ve resorted to avoiding eye contact but he won’t budge, his eyes follow mine wherever I turn them.