The Kings Mate

Chapter Two

I had tossed and turned for most of the day in my bed, I simply could not get him of my mind. I kept replaying it in my head. When our eyes met I felt like a thousand bolts of lightning had coursed through me, I liked it.

I sighed and stared up at the dark brown ceiling. Who is he? And how could he shake me to my very core just by looking into my eyes? Perhaps he thought I was a small child who was stalking the new guests eager to know what lycans were.

I must admit that it sounds more like it. I could pass as a teenage boy when my hair was tied behind my back, I had strong features, my nose was slightly crooked, a result of not listening to the Alpha when he told me not to go into the forest. I had disobeyed him and he punished me, causing my nose to break. I instinctively lay my hand onto my nose, the memory of the day flashing before my now fully awake eyes.

Deciding that I had had enough, I reached out for my pillow and decided to force myself to rest. After all three hours had past already, he might not even remember those five seconds where he became my strange obsession. Here I am a silly twenty twenty-year-old girl in her bed with butterflies in her stomach and star dust in her veins obsessing over a man who will leave the pack in two weeks and probably disappear into the wild, where he’ll meet a beautiful mate and have a beautiful family and have a sickeningly beautiful life. While I’ll be here in this little bedroom up in the attic, with my nose in a book and my mind full of dreams and thoughts of the man I saw on a cold winter’s day and the eyes that held the promise of forever.

They made a mess of the kitchen. Shattered plates, used pots and pans, some cups that reeked of alcohol and so many dishes. The clock on the wall had just struck ten o’clock as I began scrubbing and cleaning while the sounds of giggles and laughter rang through. I had snuck slowly into the kitchen so as to not bring to attention my presence. The Lunas' first rule is that I should not be seen or heard when I was working. She often said a good worker should not be seen.

I found that absolutely ridiculous and obviously hard to do since I was a living breathing creature, so I opted to sneaking about and cleaning up if there were pack members still awake. After midnight, however, I had full reign on the lower level of the house, I could mosey on about with my cleaning with the occasional pack member coming down to get a glass of water. It was my time and, in a way I enjoyed having a sense of order around me, it made me feel like I had control over my life. even if it was just deciding on how to clean a couch.

I was eight plates, four cups and six spoons into my dishwashing that I finally came to terms with the fact that they were not going to bed soon and that I’d have to rush my cleaning for the night due to their lack of time management, would it kill them to go to bed before midnight?

Oh well, might as well fuel up

The upside of cleaning at night is that I have full access to cook whatever I want and eat whatever I want without getting caught, and my favorite thing was ice-cream. I sat at the long kitchen island and plopped my bowl of chocolate and vanilla and ate in silence occasionally stopping to hear the soft footsteps heading up stairs. They had finally decided to cut the party short and go to sleep, finally. By the time my bowl was half empty, there was no one on the lower level and silence had fallen on to the pack house. As I had predicted, they had gone to sleep at 1 am, leaving me with three hours to clean the house and make breakfast for a fourteen, a challenging task, but I could do it.

“Excuse me?” I practically jumped off the kitchen counter in fright. I hadn’t been alone. In the entryway stood a tall man staring quizzically at me.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to frighten you, I was feeling a bit hungry and came to see if there was anything to eat,” He spoke. his voice soft and appealing almost as if he was talking to a frightened creature he had rescued, it annoyed me that it worked. I nodded to him and pointed to the empty island stool next to me as I stood up and made my way to the other side of the counter to see what I could make for the hungry wolf. I snuck a peak at him and noticed that he had indeed taken a seat and was looking at me, I felt his gaze on me, not savage or predatory but curious and confused, almost a bit hesitant, as I made him a sandwich. He occasionally fiddled with his hands, I could smell he was uncomfortable, probably didn’t feel comfortable around me, my silence tends to aggravate them. Werewolves are social creatures by nature, some more than others.

I sat the plate of sandwiched next to him and he stopped fiddling and gazed up at me and then at the plate.

“Thank you,” he murmured and I gave him a slight smile as I reached out and pulled the now melting ice-cream bowl towards the other side of the counter and started eating it.

He looked strange. I was used to being around werewolves, but never around lycans, my kind. He was taller than me I was six feet taller than most of the women in the pack. He was around six foot five with blond hair that was cut short, tan with bulging muscles almost threatening to rip his grey shirt and with dark hazel eyes with grey freckles adorning them.

And for the second time in that week my heart stopped, he had been staring at me and I was foolishly staring back, a felt my neck growing hot and, for the first time in my life I regretted not wearing my hair down. He must have noticed how read my ears were at being caught shamelessly staring.

Deciding to take the cowardly way out of the awkward situation I had dug myself into, I quickly placed my bowl with the rest of the dishes I had left undone to pursue my ice-cream desires and proceeded to wash them. It was then that I heard the island stool creek and I heard him move. I held my breath and he appeared to the left of me. I couldn’t find it within me to stare into his eyes,

“Thank you, it was delicious,” he said as he placed his dirty plate with the rest of them. I smelt it on him, yesterday's scent, it was faint on him but it was there. I stared at him as he slowly walked towards the kitchen door. I wanted to ask him about it but somehow I could not form the words.

What would I say to him, that I would love to smell him? That he has a smell on him that somehow brings out the truest emotion I have and intoxicates me to the point that my wolf stirs within me wanting more of that smell. No, I bit my tongue and he left I will not let myself be filled with absurd longings, first the smell and then the mystery man. It is better if I choose one and I much prefer Mr. Snowman, he is after all tangible. The stray thought of him brought a smile to my lips. I busied myself with the work, placing the event in the back of my mind and waiting for night to end and day to begin, perhaps luck will be on my side and I’d get to peak out at Mr. Snowman.