Eleven
1489 Words
Marissa
Sitting cross-legged on my bed, I went over my notes in front of me. My laptop screen flickered with the last article I had found—one detailing the importance of scent projection in mate bonds.
I adjusted the strap of my tank top and rolled my shoulders, focusing on what I had learned. For us werewolves to attract mates, the pheromones had to be turned on and enhanced, increasing our body's natural output so that our mates would never ignore our presence.
If this didn’t work, If he didn’t react to my scent, there had to be a reason—either I was doing something wrong, something was blocking the bond, or maybe fate had doomed me. I had to exhaust every last option and do everything in my power before I even entertained the idea of confiding in someone else. Because if I did, I would be exposing myself and making myself vulnerable to a reality I wasn’t prepared to face.
I was about to shut the laptop when I decided to check the pack’s social media. There was an endless stream of pictures and videos from the Queen’s banquet. I clicked on the images. Justin was standing beside Wendy, and he placed his hand lightly on her lower back as cameras flashed around them.
Wendy seemed perfect as usual, looking every bit like the queen-to-be. Justin didn’t push her away or show any discomfort.
My stomach twisted. I told myself this was expected. Wendy was his fiancée. Of course, they would be together. Of course, they would have to look perfect and maintain the illusion of an unbreakable future.
But it hurt me.
The chorus of awe filled the comments. He hadn’t even acknowledged our bond, yet here I was, feeling possessive over someone who didn’t want me.
This had gone on for too long. I had been passive, hoping and waiting for something to happen. That ended now. Tomorrow, I would get to the office earlier—before anyone else. I would make sure I emitted my scent at full strength, without distractions and interruptions. If there was any part of Justin’s wolf that recognized me, then tomorrow, he wouldn’t be able to ignore it.
I rushed to my feet, standing before my closet and scanning my options. I settled for a peplum blouse and a pencil skirt that hugged my curves just right. I stepped back, glancing at the outfit and nodding my head in approval.
The next day, I woke up in high spirits. After taking some honey to help secrete my scent, I fished out a rabbit vibrator to test and spread my legs open, with a mental image of Justin making love to me.
It was the first time in months that I touched myself, as I wasn't really a fan of it. But I needed my juices flowing.
I needed Justin's warmth inside of me, stroking my walls, rubbing against the tender skin between my thighs until I felt my body shaking. Until I came again, hard and deep, begging for more of him.
That brightened my mood. I freshened up and got ready for work, blending soft strokes of blush onto my cheeks and misting fragrance on my wrists and neck. My makeup was subtle to even out my complexion, and by the time I was done and the staff bus was pulling up, about three people complimented me—including Hector, who said, “Gorgeous as always.”
I flushed and returned a polite smile, hiding the real reason behind my effort. I kept to myself and rushed to the executive suite, Justin wasn’t here yet.
Perfect.
I let out a slow breath and opened his door.
My nose caught an unpleasant sensation rolling through me. I twitched and inhaled again, deeper this time, and my wolf immediately recoiled. It was a sharp bitterness, with something acrid.
What the hell was that?
My gaze swept across the office, searching for the source. This was something dark. Instinct pulled me toward the far side of the room, to the glass shelf where he kept his collection of wine bottles and liquor. I ran my fingers lightly along the edge of the shelf, following the invisible trail. My pulse ticked higher as I slowly pulled a drawer open. Inside, tucked in the corner, was a cloth pouch. I reached for it hesitantly, bringing it closer to my nose.
The moment the scent hit me full force, my stomach twisted, and my wolf let out an uneasy growl in my mind.
The bitter smell of the crushed herbs was overwhelming and unnatural. My breath came faster now as I shoved it back into the drawer. Whatever it was, it was wrong. I didn’t know what Justin was keeping it for, but it looked like poison.
I spun on my heels and strode out, needing fresh air. The moment I stepped into the hallway, I exhaled sharply and rubbed at my temples.
So much for my plan.
I had been pretending to focus on my screen the moment Justin stepped in. Heat prickled along my skin, and despite every effort to remain composed, my breath hitched. He seemed detached as always, but that only stoked the fire crawling low in my stomach.
"Good morning," I said, keeping my voice steady despite the longing tugging at me.
He barely glanced my way and offered a slight nod before continuing toward his office. I bit the inside of my cheek. This cruel joke of a bond was taunting me with a one-sided attraction.
Screw it.
I grabbed my iPad and rose from my seat, smoothing my skirt before making my way to his office. I had business to attend to—but more importantly, I had an experiment to conduct.
Carefully controlling my breathing, I took a seat across from him. The acrid smell had reduced thanks to Justine’s scent. He barely spared me a glance, already focused on whatever was on his desk. My wolf stirred inside me, urging me forward to try again.
I relaxed my muscles, drawing a deep breath and releasing the scent meant to awaken something primal in him.
My thighs rubbed together, desperately hoping this would affect him. But nothing happened.
No pause in his movements. No tension in his shoulders. Nothing.
I tried again, pushing a little harder, letting the warmth of my femininity and attraction bleed out. It should be suffocating him at this point.
But still—nothing.
He kept flipping through documents and tapping on his keyboard, as if I wasn’t even there.
Was I doing it wrong? I had read everything about this. It should work.
Why was I completely invisible to him? Why was he barely acknowledging my existence?
"Get me coffee," he said flatly.
A harsh scoff escaped my lips, which made him look up.
"At this point, you should swap me with someone less qualified for this role."
He leaned back, and his mouth curved into a dimpled smile. My heart raced, wondering if it was my pheromones at play.
"I've been trying," I said, exasperated. "Yesterday, your documents were riddled with errors, you didn’t take my advice. I'm overqualified for fetching coffee, don’t you think?"
"No, you're not," he said, picking up his fountain pen. "I do like my coffee a certain way, and you always mix it up. Assistants are supposed to be efficient and replaceable. You're only hitting one of those three."
I leaned forward, glaring at him. "You're right. I'm terrible at being replaceable."
"Let's test the theory, shall we? You look like you have something to say. Spit it out."
My heart clenched and began to drum like a marathon runner’s.
Perhaps he wanted me to acknowledge the bond and then disgrace me after all this.
I swallowed.
This attempt at humiliation—I wasn’t going to fall for it.
"I'll give you credit, though. You don't bore me. My last assistant was quite the opposite."
His words snapped me back to reality.
I picked up my iPad. "That's high praise from a man who finds joy in making everyone else miserable."
This time, he laughed and winked at me. "You do react so beautifully. Have you considered making your job easier by doing your part?”
"How fascinating," I grumbled. "Can we get down to the business of the day?"
I expected him to give me the slightest clue that he knew about the bond. Yet, there was nothing. Although I strengthened my resolve not to be the first to mention it, I wanted to know why he wasn’t accepting or rejecting me.
He was completely indifferent.
All my attempts to get his attention and make him acknowledge the bond had been met with nothing.
It was humiliating.
My wolf whimpered in the back of my mind, restless with longing. But I shoved that feeling aside.
I had done enough. More than enough.
- Writer
