SHADOW REST
803 Words
SLOANE
Two words.
Until now, I didn’t know it took two words to send electric waves splintering through my entire body. My legs, those structures, decided it was the perfect time to embarrass me.
They suddenly went limp, I wasn’t even feeling them. My lips quivered, as I tried to find the right words to you. The command was so simple, relayed in a steady voice, but it carried an undeniable aura that made me arch my back involuntarily.
Adrian’s full eyebrows drew in, as he exhaled sharply. I could perceive his minty breath even though we were a good feet apart.
“I don’t like repeating myself, miss ma’am,” Amusement coloured his face, as dimples made a sudden appearance on his cheeks. “Now, Luna…”
Luna. My breath hitched at the lazy sensual tone in his voice. It was too loose, and yet frigid in a way that sent warmth rippling through my entire body.
The distance between us was merely half an inch. “We’re about ten minutes late for the event. But you shouldn’t bother about that,” Those eyes bored into mine, as if he was searching for something his mouth seemed too heavy to say. “I always like to make an entrance. You should get used to that too,” His tone was cheeky.
The perverted way I felt suddenly flickered into the fireplace at the far right of the room. “I see you’re a proud one,” As much as I believed in a little bit of sentiment to keep my sanity in check. I hate pride. No, I loathed it. “If you must be with me, you must water down your pride,”
He tsked. “Confidence. Sloane Sinclair, you of all people should know how to differentiate frivolous things like that,”
Something weird pinched at my spine.
Fast. Sharp.
I wasn’t in touch with my ego, but something about his statement hit a delicate nerve. Ego was a distant vocabulary to me, when I’d been broken over and over again by the person who should’ve protected me.
Speaking of which, Camille hasn’t called me since I arrived in Aragon. I’d sent her a simple email. She preferred that.
Bile sloshed in my throat. I wasn’t even spared in the holiday seasons.
I was startled into reality when Andrian poked my head. It was a gentle touch, almost like a brush. But it should’ve well been gasoline. A foreign emotion flared in my stomach, and pushed its way to my chest.
I dragged oxygen into my lungs to suppress the pressure in my system. “Andrian—“
He cut in. “Sloane, you don’t have a say in this contract,” Andrain added coldly. “I hate going back and forth with people. Double if it’s with women. Excruciating if it’s a human.”
I rolled my eyes. He was insufferable. How come I almost thought he was a gentleman strapped in a custom made three piece suit, that made him freaking look like he was a perfect piece of art.
Think again Sloane Sinclair.
“Point of correction, Half human. Half werewolf,” My tone was clipped. Albeit, there was no denying the awkward undertone when I mentioned werewolf.
I was going to have a hard time blending in. It was going to be a walk through hell, when my supposed fiancé or mate or whatever the crap he was, was fighting so hard to hold back his laugh.
My shoulders sloushed, as I crossed my hands over my chest. “And what the hell is funny, Alpha Adrian—” The rest of my words got caught in my throat, when the color of his eyes changed from emerald green, to a fiery red.
His chest rattled with a growl, and the fire went out. My blood froze.
Suddenly, his eyes colour changed to normal. Adrian covered the distance between us, and squeezed my shoulders. “No, you’re fully human,” he paused. “You can’t even stand the least of my Alpha aura,”
“Stop touching me,” I shook myself out of his grip. Well, technically he let me go.
A shadow rested on his face, and that reaction almost pulled a moan from my lips. I was a virgin for crying out loud. Sometimes I fantasize about doing nasty things to Nicolas, but that was as far as it went.
With this stranger, it was different. The nails searing into his flesh during the flight. His sudden appearance when I was a second away from being killed. Andrian had his effect on me, in the way no man ever has.
I don’t like this. Not in the slightest. Not when I haven’t gotten over the ache in my chest, thanks to Nicolas Carrington.
- Writer
