Chapter 12 Wen #2
“Of course. I wish to understand you. Your interests. What you find appealing in romantic partners.” He stood, moving out of the shadows and into the light.
“This male character, for instance. He is clearly trying to prove himself worthy of his mate. Demonstrating his strength, his ability to provide and protect. The wall scene you are debating is not merely about physical pleasure. It is about showing her that he can support her weight, that he is capable of caring for her in all ways.”
Dead silence.
“That’s... actually a really good analysis,” Daphne said weakly.
“The emotional subtext is quite clear.” Mal walked over to our group. “Though I maintain that real dragons would be far more possessive than this character. The claiming would be more immediate. More primal.”
“Oh my god,” Bella whispered. “He’s participating in book club.”
“And regarding the wall scene,” Mal continued, sitting down on the couch next to me, “the position is entirely feasible. The male braces her against the wall, his hands supporting her weight under her thighs. She wraps her legs around his waist for stability. The angle allows for deep penetration while maintaining eye contact, which is essential for the emotional intimacy the scene requires.”
He casually pulled me onto his lap as he said this. Just wrapped his arms around my waist and positioned me between his legs as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Um.” Daphne’s eyebrows had climbed into her hairline. “Are you two...?”
“What’s happening here?” Bella squeaked.
“No.” I said it quickly. Too quickly. “We’re not... it’s not like that. But after last night we’ve both been needing the physical contact. For comfort. That’s all.”
“Sure,” Krystin said slowly. Her smirk was absolutely wicked. “Physical contact. For comfort. While he reads your porn and gives detailed explanations of sex positions.”
My face burned. “It’s not-”
“The distinction is minimal,” Mal observed. “Though I have found the romance novels quite educational. I have made notes.”
“You’ve made notes?” I twisted to look at him. “On what?”
“Mating positions.” He winked at me. “Your literature is very comprehensive. Chapter seventeen of the werewolf book was particularly instructive.”
Krystin looked ready to combust with delight. “This is the best thing I’ve ever witnessed.”
“I do have questions, however.” Mal turned his attention to my friends. “In the dragon book, chapter thirteen describes something called ‘edging.’ The explanation was vague. Can you clarify the purpose?”
“OKAY!” Krystin shot to her feet. “We’re leaving now! Don’t get up. We know the way out.”
“What? But you just got here-”
“Nope. This has gone from book club to sex education and I’m not prepared for that level of honesty.” She grabbed the wine bottle. “You two clearly have things to discuss. Very detailed, anatomically specific things.”
“I’m happy to listen-” Mal started.
“NO THANK YOU!” Bella was already at the door, her face the color of a tomato.
Daphne paused, looking between me and Mal with a knowing smile. “For what it’s worth? I think you two are perfect together. Even if he does crash book club to debate fictional sex positions.”
“I found the debate intellectually stimulating,” Mal said earnestly.
“I BET YOU DID!” Krystin called from the doorway. “Text us tomorrow, Wen. Or don’t. We’ll understand if you’re busy demonstrating chapter thirteen.”
The door closed behind them with a cheerful chime.
Silence.
I was still sitting in Mal’s lap. His arms were still around me. The dragon book was on the couch beside us.
“Your friends are very entertaining,” he observed.
“They’re going to give me so much shit about this.”
“Because I participated in your book discussion?”
“Because you participated while explaining sex positions and pulling me into your lap.”
“I thought the lap was a nice touch. It demonstrated my point about supporting your weight.” His arms tightened. “See? Perfectly comfortable. Plus I love touching you.”
“You’re impossible.”
“I am determined.” He nuzzled into my neck. “There is a difference.”
I should have gotten up, reminding him we were taking things slow. But his arms felt good, and I needed this. Him.
“I want to know more about you,” I said instead. “We know the basics, but not much else. Your life in Lytopia. Your family. What you left behind.”
He pulled back to look at me. “You wish to know about my world?”
“I wish to know about you. Everything about you.”
His expression softened. Warmed. “I would like that very much, little mate.”
“We could talk while I make dinner?” I suggested. “I’m starving and emotional processing makes me hungry.”
“I will help with the cooking.”
“You know how to cook?”
“I can follow instructions. And I am very good with my hands.”
The way he said it made my stomach flip. “I’m sure you are.”
We headed upstairs to my apartment. I pulled out ingredients for pasta - nothing fancy, but it would do. Mal watched me with intense focus as I explained what we were making.
“So this is a date?” he asked suddenly.
I paused, tomato in hand. “What?”
“A date. I read about them in several books. A romantic evening where two people share a meal and learn about each other.” He tilted his head. “Is that what this is?”
I bit my lip. Looked at him. At this impossible werewolf king who read romance novels to understand me better. Who defended me without hesitation. Who made me feel safe and wanted and seen.
“Yes,” I said. “This could be a date.”
His smile was blinding. He crossed the kitchen in two strides and pressed a kiss to my cheek. Soft. Sweet. Over before I could process it.
“Then I am honored to be courting you properly, Gwendolyn Woods.”
My face heated. “Just Wen is fine.”
“I know. But I like the sound of your full name. It suits you.”
We cooked together. He chopped vegetables with surprising skill while I handled the pasta. He asked questions about everything - the stove, the pots, why humans cooked food instead of eating it raw like they did in wolf forms.
“Because we’re not wolves,” I explained. “We can’t digest raw meat as easily.”
“But you could if you were turned.”
I froze. “Turned?”
“If you accepted the mate bond. If I claimed you properly.” His voice was casual but his eyes were intent. “You would gain some of my abilities. Not shifting, but enhanced senses. Longer life. The ability to communicate through the bond.”
“How much longer?”
“Wolves can live for centuries. You would match my lifespan.”
Centuries. With him. The thought should have terrified me. Instead, it made my heart race for entirely different reasons.
“That’s a lot to process,” I said.
“I know. Which is why I am telling you now. So you can consider it. Think about what you truly want.” He moved closer. “I will not pressure you, little mate. But I will not hide the truth from you either.”
We finished cooking in charged silence. The pasta was ready. The sauce was perfect. We sat down at my tiny kitchen table, knees bumping, the space between us electric.
“Tell me about your family,” I said, trying to focus on food instead of the way his eyes kept tracking to my mouth. “Do you have siblings? Parents?”
His expression softened. “My brother Aurion is King of Noctherion, our neighboring kingdom. He is older than me by only two years but acts as if he is ancient. When he is drunk, he is insufferable.”
I smiled. “You miss him.”
“I do. We are close. Closer than most brothers in royal families. We supported each other through our father’s death, through our separate trials for our thrones.” He took a bite of pasta. “This is excellent, by the way.”
“Thanks. What about your mother?”
“Sorcha is... formidable. Kind but fierce. She raised two sons to be kings and never let us forget that with power comes responsibility.” He smiled. “She would like you.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you are strong. Stubborn. Refuse to bow to anyone, even a king.” His eyes glinted. “She values those qualities.”
“I’m not that stubborn.”
“You rejected the mate bond for two weeks despite feeling its pull every moment.”
“Okay, maybe I’m a little stubborn.”
“It is one of many things I adore about you.”
The word ‘adore’ hung in the air between us, significant.
“Tell me about the challenge,” I said, needing to shift the conversation. “The one you were in the middle of when the portal opened.”
His expression darkened. “Andreas Silver. A noble with delusions of grandeur who believes I have no right to rule Ravenor because I was not born there.”
“But you… Won the throne? Legally?”
“I did. I challenged Gallahan Emwood, my godfather, and killed him in fair combat.” Pain flashed across his face.
“He was my father’s best friend. A man I trusted my entire life.
Discovering his corruption, his cruelty, his willingness to sacrifice innocent lives for power. .. it broke something in me.”
I reached across the table and took his hand. “I’m sorry.”
“Do not be. He deserved what he got. But Andreas uses my origin as a weapon. Claims that killing my godfather was a betrayal. That a true king would never turn on family.” He squeezed my hand. “He is wrong. A true king protects his people, even from those he loves.”
“You did the right thing.”
“I know. But it cost me. Cost me someone I cared for deeply. Cost me my innocence about the people I trusted.”
I understood that. Understood the weight of betrayal. The way it changed you.
We finished dinner talking about lighter things. His world. My world. The differences and similarities. He was fascinated by technology. I was fascinated by magic. We compared notes on politics, on power, on what it meant to lead.
By the time we were done, the tension had shifted. Less charged. More comfortable. But still there. Always there.
“I should clean up,” I said, standing.
He stood with me and helped gather plates. We worked in tandem, moving around each other in the small kitchen with surprising ease.
When the last dish was put away, I turned to find him watching me with that intense gaze again.
“Thank you,” he said. “For this evening. For wanting to know me.”
“Thank you for telling me.” I stepped closer. “For being honest and not hiding who you are.”
“I could never hide from you, little mate. You see me too clearly.”
The space between us was minimal. Barely there. I could feel the heat of him and smell that pine and earth scent that made my head spin.
“Mal?”
“Yes?”
“Chapter thirty-two. In the dragon book.” My heart was racing. “Do you really think it’s realistic?”
His eyes flashed red. “Would you like me to prove it?”
I should have said no and stepped back. Reminded both of us that we were taking things slow. But I was done lying to myself.
“Maybe,” I whispered. “Eventually.”
“Eventually,” he repeated, his voice rough. “But not tonight.”
“Not tonight,” I agreed.
“Then perhaps we should retire to your bed. Platonically. For sleep only.” But the way he said it made it clear that ‘eventually’ was getting closer.
“Platonically,” I echoed. “Sure.”
His smile was wicked. “You are a terrible liar, Gwendolyn Woods.”
“And you’re a terrible influence.”
“The best influences usually are.”
He scooped me up before I could protest and carried me to the bedroom. Laid me down with that same gentleness and climbed in behind me, pulling me close.
But this time, I turned in his arms. Faced him instead of letting him spoon me.
We stared at each other in the darkness. His eyes were still faintly red, glowing just enough that I could see his hungry but patient expression. Always waiting for me to make the choice.
I moved slowly, gave him time to stop me, to pull back. He didn’t move, just watched me with those intense eyes as I closed the distance between us.
And then I kissed him. Just a brush of my lips against his. He went completely still, every muscle locked. For a heartbeat, I thought I’d made a mistake. Pushed too far, moved too fast.
Then his mouth opened under mine and he devoured me.
There was nothing soft about it, nothing tentative. His hand came up to cup the back of my head, angling me where he wanted. His tongue swept into my mouth and I made a sound that should have been embarrassing but came out more desperate than anything else.
He tasted like the wine from dinner. Like mint from the toothpaste, like pure male and need and mine. I kissed him back with everything I had. Matched his intensity, his hunger. My hands tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, deeper, more.
Finally.
He groaned into my mouth. The sound vibrated through me. His other hand gripped my hip, pulling me flush against him until I could feel exactly how affected he was. Hard and hot and pressing against my stomach through the thin fabric of our clothes.
I rocked against him without thinking, seeking friction, relief from the ache building between my thighs.
His hand on my hip tightened to the point of pain. He tore his mouth away from mine, breathing hard.
“Stop,” he growled. “Little mate, you must stop or I will not be able to.”
“Maybe I don’t want you to stop.”
“You do. Trust me. Because if we continue, I will not be gentle. I will claim you. Mark you and mate you properly. And you are not ready for that.”
He was right. Damn him, he was right.
I pressed my forehead against his chest, trying to catch my breath and calm the desire burning through my veins. It was just supposed to be a light brush of our lips, for fuck’s sake. I was a damn pervert.
“This is torture,” I muttered.
“Agreed.” His voice was strained. “But necessary. When I finally claim you, little mate, I want you to be certain. I want there to be no doubt. No hesitation or fear.”
Well. I was very close to that.
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“Perhaps not. But you are afraid of the bond, of what accepting it means. Of the permanence.” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “And that is reasonable. So we must wait. Kissing in bed…It is very dangerous.”
“Wait even though we’re both going to sleep horny as hell?”
“Even then.”
I huffed out a laugh. “You’re way too noble for a king who reads porn.”
“There’s nothing noble about me, little mate,” he corrected. “I will be taking my revenge for what this kiss did to me tonight. But do not be scared. I will make sure you enjoy your punishment.”
Oh, my. I was speechless.
I settled against him, still frustrated and aching but also weirdly content.
“Goodnight, Mal,” I whispered.
“Goodnight, little mate.” He pressed another kiss to my hair. “Dream of me.”
As I drifted off in his arms, I realized something terrifying. I was falling for him. Hard and very fast. I had no idea how to stop it.
Didn’t even know if I wanted to.