Suddenly His Luna

Mate, Mate, Mate.

Vivien

And just as promised, like clockwork, he’s back on my porch.

It’s the very next day, and the familiar knocks sound at my door.

I bite my lower lip, feeling my wolf stir with joy again. He always elicits the same reaction from her, and I don’t even know why I’m surprised. As much as I’m trying to deny it, to ignore it. I doesn’t change the facts, we’re mates.

My eyes slide shut at the sound of the second, impatient knock.

Go away, go away, go away, I chant.

Mate, mate mate, my wolf sings.

It’s a lost battle.

When I open the door, I notice this time, he only has another large bouquet of hibiscuses.

“For y-”

My hand shoots out, snatching the flowers from him and walking back into the house. He hesitates outside the open door, unsure whether or not it’s an invitation.

I sigh, “You can come in.”

He looks surprised. For a short second, I almost feel guilty. But I shrug off the feeling, choosing to focus on the fact that he’s currently in my space, practically an oddity, standing smack dab in the middle of the workshop. He takes it all in, hands in his pockets as his head swivels around the shelved walls.

Suddenly, I feel small, watching him in my space. He seems relaxed and at ease, in no rush to leave or to remove himself from his current environment. I swallow, hating how part of my feels exposed. Other than frequent clients, no one ever really came into my workshop. I always considered it my oasis, my home away from home.

He fingers the dying flowers from his last visit, sitting in a vase by the window. I don’t miss the small smile jerking the corner of his mouth.

Fighting the urge to roll my eyes, I say, “You’re oddly relaxed for someone in an unknown environment.” His eyes meet mine from across the room, “Do you do this often? Follow females till they grant you access into their homes?”

He gives his head the slightest shake. The smile hasn’t slipped off his face, so I know he’s onto me. “You’re trying to make something out of nothing.”

“I’ve never chased a woman before.” He says, “Much less one destined to be mine.”

My cheeks heat, a flush spreading over my face and down my neck. He does nothing to accommodate the false narrative I’ve created in my head. The lies I tell myself about everything that’s been going on. He’s well aware we’re mates, and he refuses to let me forget the fact.

And in his presence, I feel my wolf, resting on her belly. Her eyes closed as she snores, confident simply due to the presence of her male. She’s so content. And if there’s nothing else pushing me to stop fighting all this, there’s still her.

Happy.

Okay.

I’m grateful, as much as I seem bitter and unwanting of the entire situation. The latter still stands, cause the last thing I want is to ever put us through what we’ve suffered again, and the presence of another important man in my life is a basic recipe for disaster. But I can’t keep being a coward. I can’t keep refusing to accept or welcome what is simply because I’m so frightened of what has been and what could be.

My eyes track his movements through the workshop. He’s curious, touching what ever he deems safe enough, smelling tonics and herbs in vases. A small smile breaks through while I watch him. He’s like a little child left alone in his fathers office for the first time.

“That’s a gardenia root,” I say, tutting my chin at the pot he’s observing, “I use it to make sleeping tonics.”

His eyes widen slightly, he most likely wasn’t expecting me to be even the tiniest bit indulging. He nods his head once, acknowledging what I said before moving on to the next item on display. Pulling gently at the leaves of a green plant, he turns questioning eyes to me.

Before I know it, there’s a full blown grin on my face. We’re going back and forth. He asks me about an item he sees, and I get into as much detail as I can. He listens, patiently, thoughtfully, and it warms my heart witnessing how he can show so much interest in something he knows nothing about.

“Alright, alright,” I tell him after another round of question and answer, “I’m pretty sure you didn’t come here to listen to me go on and on about my herbs and tonics.”

His playful smile thins into a grim line, “But I did.”

Now I do roll my eyes, “No, you didn’t.”

He shifts on his feet, hands still buried deep in the pockets of his slacks, “I came here,” he says with a small nod to the ground, “To see you. I came to see you,” his eyes hold mine captive, “Because I want to know you. Talking to you about what you do is me getting to know you. All this,” he gestures vaguely around the room, “Is me getting to know you.”

I blink up at him, unsure of what to say. That was… a lot. My chest warms, then grows heavy as lead. I lick my lips, feeling like I’ve been baited to say something. But I can’t for the life of me conjure up a response to that.

He walks towards me, his long strides eating up the distance between us in seconds. I’m holding my breath, as he reaches out, taking my chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“Hey,” his voice is soft, urging to me to bring my eyes up to his, “I’m in this for the long run. I want to make this work.”

I swallow hard, wanting to tear my gaze away from his. But the sincerity in his expression keeps me in place.

“I want to make us work.”