Seventeen
1217 Words
Marissa
My words lingered in the air, more of an accusation than anything else. He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he just stared at me.
Something intense flashed in his hazel eyes before his lips curled into a dangerous smirk.
"Why are you turning the tables on me?" he asked, leaning closer.
I swear I felt my soul leaving my body.
Breathing became nearly impossible, but I forced myself to try. "What are you talking about?"
His eyes gleamed with something knowing. "You act like you don’t want me."
Uh-oh.
I took a swig of my drink, crossing my arms over my chest. "If I wanted you, I would have agreed to your advances."
He chuckled darkly. "Even when you think I don’t notice, you always gaw at me."
My heart skipped a beat, but I refused to look away. Then, he reached out, pulled my hoodie down, and twirled a finger around my hair.
The act seemed harmless. But it wasn’t.
It felt better than anything I had ever experienced.
"You’re blushing," he murmured, grinning as he lowered his voice to a whisper-like taunt.
I hated that my face was, in fact, warm. I tilted my chin up defiantly. "It’s the alcohol."
"Right. Keep lying to yourself, sweetheart."
I couldn’t stop the hitch in my breath when he called me that. His voice took on something heavier.
"It’s too bad my sister wants you. I would have given you what you want."
My throat dried, and my wolf yelped excitedly at the raw dominance in his tone. But instead of answering, I forced a dry laugh, shaking my head as if the idea was absurd.
"I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow," I said, pulling my hoodie back up as I got to my feet.
His fingers curled around my hand. "Let me make sure you get out safely."
I wanted to argue, but I let him. Relishing the warmth of his touch. Who knew if I'd ever have such an opportunity again?
Our steps fell into sync as we moved toward the exit.
The parking lot was mostly empty, save for a few scattered vehicles. A breeze swept past, carrying the faint scent of rain.
"I'm fine on my own. The lodging is just a street ahead," I said, stuffing my hands into my coat pockets.
He stopped walking. His eyes flickered over our surroundings, scanning every possible threat that wasn’t there.
I rolled my eyes, amused by his sudden overprotectiveness.
“Things can change in seconds.”
A strange warmth settled in my chest.
“Are you always this dramatic?” I teased, encouraging this newfound bodyguard routine.
"Why do I have this urge to kiss you?" he said casually, tugging me closer.
I stumbled slightly, but he didn’t let go.
I looked up, suddenly too aware of our closeness. His gaze locked onto mine, and my breath hitched.
The distance between us shrunk, our lips barely inches apart.
"What’s stopping you?" I whispered.
He closed the gap, pressing his lips against mine, a slow, languid stroke that sent sparks flying through my body.
Our bodies tumbled forward. I clutched at him. Our tongues tangled together, tangling deeper with each passing second. My mind blurred my body heating with desire.
My body melted into his, and my hands gripped his jacket. He kissed me like I had never been kissed before. His kisses were cruel, devouring my will to resist. Our lips met in a wet, hot slide, and he didn't hesitate to deepen the kiss.
He released my mouth, trailing kisses from my jawline down my neck. My breath caught, aching with longing as he pressed his forehead against mine.
After the kiss, he didn’t move away immediately. Instead, our foreheads touched, his breath fanning my neck.
Then clarity rushed in just as fast.
I searched his face, hoping—foolishly—for something different. But it wasn’t there.
It dawned on me.
I would never be special to Justin. Not in the way I wanted to be.
It wasn’t rejection. But it wasn’t a claim either.
Women would die for Justin’s touch. Perhaps he was even immune to them now.
Instead of reacting in a way that would make me seem petty or foolish, I let a slight smile tug at the corner of my lips.
"Goodnight," I murmured, giving nothing away.
I caught the brief pause in his posture—like he hadn’t expected me to take it so well.
But I didn’t linger to analyze it. I turned and steadied my steps, walking toward my path home. As I moved, I inhaled deeply, trying to calm the rhythm of my pulse.
This was the first real physical confirmation of the bond, and now, it felt undeniable. I lifted my fingers to my lips, brushing them. His taste still lingered.
A small smile played on my face.
The Next Day, I wasn’t surprised. Not even a little.
Justin had arrived earlier than me. He was already at his desk, eyes glued to multiple reports, his phone balanced between his ear and shoulder as he scribbled something down on a notepad.
Back to business as usual.
It shouldn’t have stung. But it did.
Not that I expected anything different.
Last night had meant nothing to him.
Even though I had felt the bond down to the depth of my bones.
To Justin, it was just another passing encounter. And now, he was back in his untouchable element.
To be fair, he was swamped. His desk was buried under documents and reports requiring his signature.
The king himself was making an unexpected visit.
The king rarely stopped by unless there was something important to discuss. That alone added another layer of tension to Justin’s already full plate.
I buried myself in work. But it wasn’t enough.
So, I decided to volunteer to assist other departments.
I walked into Public Relations, offering to proofread press releases regarding the upcoming festival.
I was ready to do anything to keep my mind from circling back to last night.
Back at my desk, I was finalizing a set of documents when a group of well-dressed individuals entered the office.
They were elite socialites tied to the royal family.
Among them, Wendy stood out—as always.
I kept my head down, detaching myself from whatever parade was happening on the other side of the room.
But then, a designer purse landed on my desk.
I blinked at it.
Then came Wendy’s voice. Utterly rude and dismissive.
"Get me a drink."
The audacity.
I stared at her purse like it had personally offended me.
The owner hadn’t even acknowledged my existence or pretended to be polite. She treated me like I was a glorified servant.
My first instinct was to clap back and remind Wendy that I wasn’t some errand girl.
I was a qualified lawyer.
I had earned my position.
I was also an Alpha’s daughter.
But I hesitated.
That would be childish. And it would be easy for everyone to twist into a jealousy or inferiority complex narrative.
I wasn’t insecure.
And I refused to give her the satisfaction of making me look so.
Controlling my emotions, I stood up.
I would get that drink.
But not because she commanded me to.
Because I chose to.
- Writer
