7. Chapter seven
1085 Words
She woke up at exactly six. Dianne's eyelids gradually opened to reveal dazed green orbs which casually roamed around the unfamiliar surroundings. She got up, stretching languidly.
It took a few seconds for her to remember where she was. She had slept over at Tristan's place. They had talked well into the night, and because it was so late he had suggested she spend the night. He had insisted, in fact, when she politely refused.
Dianne had slept in Tristan's clothes, and she could still perceive his unique scent from them.
The entire house smelt of him.
She had fallen asleep with thoughts of laying next to him instead of being a room away satisfied with just breathing in his scent. And her dreams had been filled with him.
Though in truth, she dreamt of him everyday.
It had become worse ever since their kiss. Before it had just been her imagination, but now she knew how his lips felt...how compelling his kisses were...how it felt to have his sturdy body pressed against hers and the enthralling sensations it evoked in her.
She didn't think she would be able to go back to just looking from afar, being unable to touch him.
Her smile slipped away.
She would have to.
Dianne emerged from her room about an hour later freshly showered and dressed in the clothes she'd worn yesterday.
"Leaving already?"
She stopped short, turning from the front door she had been about to open.
She had been quiet, how did he hear her?
Her plan had been to leave without him knowing. After all they would just go back to being professor and student, pretending nothing ever happened.
But then her mind went completely blank when she noticed he was lacking a shirt. Want rippled through her entire being finally pooling at the base of her stomach.
His clothes did not do justice to what was underneath.
Her eyes roved, from the well muscled chest, to every ridge and dip of his abdominal muscles and finally narrowing in on the bullet scar on the left side of his chest. And then she noticed the other scars riddling his torso.
The air shifted.
Although subtle, Tristan could still tell. He could tell the exact moment she saw his scars. The atmosphere changed, fraught with deep emotion. He saw the anguish and concern in her eyes...for him.
He felt a small feather-like touch on his chest, as though she was afraid pressing any harder would hurt him. Before Tristan realized what he was doing, his hand had already reached out to grab her hand, placing it firmly on his chest, right on top of the scar.
"How did you get your scars?"
He stared at her, clearly not planning to answer.
Dianne tried to calm her emotions. The thought of the pain he must have gone through and the possibility of her losing him before she had even met him tore at her heart.
Brows furrowed, Dianne wondered why on earth a university lecturer would have a bullet scar.
"Professor, whatever we talked about yesterday cannot be made known to anyone." She said in what she hoped was a stern voice.
"The part about you being a werewolf?" He arched amused brows at her attempt at being stern. "If I hadn't seen it for myself, even I wouldn't believe werewolves existed."
Dianne nodded satisfied with his answer.
"So what happens next?"
He didn't stop her as she snatched her hand from his, lowering her eyes.
"We both pretend the last few days never occured." She said quietly.
"That's where you're wrong."
He had come to a decision after analyzing everything last night.
She was the right age. And she had the same features as the girl they were looking for. She fit the description perfectly or as perfectly as it could get with the limited information he had. The possibility of her being the person they were searching for was high. And if that were the case, why exactly were they searching for her.
He intended to find out.
Even if that weren't the case, she could still assist in his investigation. Either way, he would have to keep her close.
As for the whole mate thing, he would just go with flow.
"There will definitely not be any pretending that nothing has happened."
Dianne looked up in surprise. She had thought he would appreciate the fact that she would pretend that nothing happened between them, and they'd both go back to life the way it was before with her yearning for her mate and him being with his fiancée. But it seemed he had other plans.
She hadn't noticed when he'd stepped closer but now she was all too aware of him, aware of the sprinkle of tiny hairs above his mouth, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, aware of the way her heart stopped completely and then began on an all too fast crescendo.
"Are you hungry?"
"Huh?" Dianne was confused for a few seconds with the sudden topic change.
He stepped back from her and gave her a pointed look just as her stomach growled.
Dianne smiled in embarrassment, her cheeks reddening as she followed him into the kitchen.
Half an hour later, Dianne could scarcely believe she was sitting next to her mate, calmly having breakfast, the same mate who had seemed so far out of reach just weeks ago.
She peeked at him again, really wanting to ask him yet not daring to.
"Say what you want to say," Tristan pushed away his now empty plate.
He stared at her, giving her his full attention.
Dianne's heart skipped a bit at being on the receiving end of such an uninhibited gaze.
"What about your girlfriend?" She finally blurted out.
He looked taken aback by my question but then let out a chuckle.
"I do not have a girlfriend."
"Fiancée then?"
"Neither do I have a fiancée."
He and that girl were no longer together? For months now she had tormented herself with thoughts of them together, thoughts of them kissing passionately, thoughts of them doing things she would never get to do with her mate.
Her heart blossomed but she didn't show it on her face.
"Okay," she nodded and proceeded to finish her meal.
Right now she wasn't sure if him seeing her transform on that fateful night was a good thing or bad, what she did know was that things would never be the same again.
- Writer
