At night, Nickolas asks for me. Unlike yesterday, I’m not anxious about how the night will unfold. Even though I have no desire to see him, I know I have no say in it. Knocking softly, I wait for his permission before stepping into his room. I enter and find him seated by a working desk near the window, a detail I hadn’t noticed before.
The moonlight casts a soft glow, illuminating every feature of his handsome face as he focuses on his work. I watch as he adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose, and I can’t help but notice how they add to his allure, even if I wish he didn’t. There’s just something undeniably captivating about the way they frame his eyes, accentuating their intensity and adding a touch of sophistication to his appearance.
Yet, as I observe him, a question lingers in the back of my mind: why would a lycan, with their renowned vision, need glasses in the first place? It’s a curious thought, one that I can’t quite shake as I continue to watch him work, his concentration unwavering despite my silent musings. Lycans are supposed to have the second-best vision after werewolves.
“Take off your clothes and hop into the bed,” he commands, snapping me from my thoughts.
“Why are you putting on a show that we are mating?” I ask, my curiosity piqued by his odd actions. It doesn’t take me long to figure out that’s what he’s doing, but I can’t seem to understand why.
“Take off your damn clothes and get on the fucking bed,” he retorts, ignoring my question.
“I would love to know why,” I persist, my curiosity getting the better of me.
“Amelia!” he interrupts sharply, banging his fist against the table. I flinch, stumbling back a few feet at the force of his outburst. He lifts his head from the papers in front of him, glaring at me through the rim of his glasses, his frustration palpable.
“I’ll get undressed right away,” I respond, turning away from him and making my way toward the bed. “Sometimes I wonder what I did to get mated to a child like you,” he says under his breath, but I hear it.
“Did you just call me a child?” I ask, spinning around to face him, my voice edged with disbelief.
“I believe your werewolf abilities are still there,” he responds coolly, his tone implying that my age is irrelevant.
“If you don’t know, I’m 22 years old. I am not a child,” I retort, my frustration growing despite my efforts to remain composed. The insult strikes a nerve, and I can’t help but defend myself.
“That’s a child to me,” he counters, his expression unyielding, leaving me baffled and increasingly exasperated by his stance.
“I am not a child,” I assert, my voice rising slightly above its normal tone. The words escape my lips with a firmness that belies the hurt I feel at his remark.
“Did you just fucking raise your voice at me?” he demands, his tone sharp as he tilts his head to the side, his brow raised in disbelief.
“No, I didn’t,” I reply quickly, shaking my head in denial. I can’t believe I allowed myself to raise my voice. Am I on a death wish or what?
Before I can dwell on my impulsive response any longer, Nickolas is suddenly right in front of me, his hand firmly around my neck. I gasp in surprise, my back arching as he backs me into the closest wall. Instinctively, I place my hand above his, but I don’t pull it away, recognizing that he isn’t choking me.
His scent envelops me, wrapping around me like a warm blanket, and I feel a sense of warmth spreading through my chest. As I glance down, I notice his arm resting between my breasts, the proximity sending a jolt of electricity coursing through me. Despite the tension between us, there’s an undeniable intimacy in the moment, leaving me breathless and unsure of what to do next.
I catch a glimpse of his chest as he stands before me, two buttons undone on his shirt. The sight ignites a primal urge within me, my fingers tingling with the desire to explore his bare torso and trace the contours of his abs. Why does my mate have to be so irresistibly sexy? It feels so unfair.
“Never, I mean never dare raise your voice at me again. I will end your worthless life without hesitation,” he warns, his hot breath fanning my face, sending shivers down my spine and causing more heat to pool in my body, centering at my core.
I resist the urge to react impulsively, forcing myself to remain composed despite the surge of emotions coursing through me. Instead, I lift my gaze to the ceiling, rolling my eyes in frustration. Damn you, mate bond! I curse inwardly, resenting the intense connection that binds us.
“Do you understand?” he demands, pinching my neck lightly. I drop my eyes, locking gazes with him as his intense green orbs bore into mine. I nod silently.
He releases his grip on my neck, his gaze dropping to my chest. I follow his line of sight, and my eyes widen in horror as I realize what he’s looking at. My nipples are perked, betraying the arousal coursing through my body despite the tense situation.
Feeling utterly mortified, I quickly pull my hands over my breasts, attempting to hide the evidence of my arousal. Oh, Heavens! Can this night get any worse? I curse inwardly, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up my neck. Why the hell are my nipples perked right now? I can’t help but wonder, desperately wishing for a way to escape the awkwardness of the moment.
I lift my eyes and notice Nickolas still looking at me, his expression unreadable. Feeling flustered, I quickly turn away, intending to put some distance between us. However, in my haste, I forget that there’s only a wall behind me, and I end up banging my head into it with a sharp thud.
“Fuck!” I cry out, instinctively placing my hand on my trembling forehead, the pain shooting through me like a bolt of lightning. I feel a throbbing ache spreading across my head as I try to steady myself against the wall, embarrassed by my own clumsiness in front of him.
“And when I call her a child, she throws a tantrum,” he mutters, walking away from me with a dismissive air.
I let out a frustrated sigh and facepalm, feeling utterly exasperated by the turn of events. Why does nothing seem to go my way?