His Love Language
Charlotte
Ilook up at him. I can tell how hard it is for him to express himself, and as much as teasing him might make me smile, his words hit somewhere deep inside of me.
He cares.
“I know, I mean it’s why you were there when I woke up…” I say quietly, tracing circles on his chest. This man’s pecs are incredible. I don’t make it harder for him; instead, I press myself fully against him, closing any minuscule gaps.
It feels far too right, lying here beneath the warm covers with Ares beside me, his body moulded against mine. The room is quiet except for the rain tapping against the window, and it feels perfect.
I am not sure either of us knows what to do with that.
His touch is unnervingly gentle in comparison to the frown on his face, but I’m beginning to realise it’s just part of who he is, and when I rest my head against his chest, his other hand caresses my waist comfortingly.
The only problem is it awakens that desire again, and if I wasn’t so weak I might have initiated again, but the last thing I want is for me to faint while we’re having sex and everyone learning of it.
I smile, brushing my hand down his abs, making him tense, his hand on my waist tightening slightly.
His gaze drops to my mouth for half a second, then lifts again, and there is something almost awkward in the way he looks away, as if he can face monsters, gods and collapsing tunnels but not intimacy like this.
“You need food,” he says, as if talking about food makes things easier to process.
“Is food the only thing that you have on your mind?” I ask.
“Not anymore,” he murmurs, and then he gives me this small, almost smile, and Goddess help me, I think I like it more than his smirk. It grows slightly, but I don’t know what to say, not when he’s looking at me like that.
Then there’s a knock on the door, and we both turn towards it, Ares sending a wave of water its way, blocking it from being opened, and I realise he never locked it.
“Ma’am, Alpha, I’ve brought food for the two of you on Luna Delsanra’s orders,” a member of staff says.
Ares and I exchange looks, and he nods in approval before letting go of me, about to get up.
Then he pauses and, turning, rests his elbow on the bed before leaning down, placing a soft kiss on my forehead and then he gets up.
Damn, those man buns look as good as they felt… He pulls on his pants before grabbing his shirt and tossing it at me. I catch it, watching him walk to the door before he opens it wide enough to grab the tray, but not wide enough that whoever is on the other side can peer inside.
I pull the shirt on as he grabs the tray and kicks the door shut behind him. “Please lock it this time,” I say with amusement. He simply gives me a look, comes over, places the tray down in front of me, and then he actually goes to lock it.
“Thanks,” I say, before looking down at the tray of food. There’s a lot here: steaming chicken and rice with some sides. My stomach almost rumbles. “This does look good…”
“It does, and I expect you to finish your plate. You need the fuel,” he says.
I tilt my head. “It’s quite late; have you eaten at all?” I ask, certain Ahren had told him to join them for dinner.
He gives me a look as if the answer were obvious. “Of course, I ate earlier.” I glance at the plate he’s picked up, and he cocks a brow. “What? I need the fuel, too.”
“I can tell you really do eat a lot,” I murmur. “I’m almost afraid to see your food bill.”
He smirks. “We may not be as rich as the Ardens, but there’s always plenty of food,” he says, motioning to my plate.
I smile as I pick up my fork. “I know, I have been to your pack, Westwood – well, the Blood Moon Pack, not Blue Moon.”
He grunts. “Well, it’s the same – pretty much. Now eat before I feed you.”
“I am capable of feeding myself,” I state, despite the flutter in my stomach. I take a small spoonful of rice, thinking about the moment I almost asked him to mark me. I don’t know why he hasn’t, or maybe it was a bit much to rush to that. I should ask him…
That’s when I notice he’s watching me intently, almost as if knowing I’m thinking about something.
“You’re staring,” I say after swallowing my spoonful.
“No, I’m not. I’m just checking to make sure you’re eating.”
“If you keep making me eat like this, I’ll go fat.”
The words are meant lightly, mostly to irritate him, but the effect is immediate. His gaze cuts to mine, sharp and almost offended. “Doesn’t matter.”
I blink. “What?”
“Doesn’t matter,” he repeats, rougher now, as if my words have annoyed him. “I want you fed. Who the fuck cares about your weight? I don’t. What I care about is that you eat properly, and that means more than a few chips or a tiny piece of chicken.”
For a moment, I have no answer. Ares doesn’t say things beautifully worded.
He doesn’t sugarcoat anything, but the way he cares is becoming clearer – through actions.
And the simple things: bringing me food, holding my hair away from filthy water, sitting beside my hospital bed, catching me in case I fall, and, of course, holding up an entire collapsed tunnel for me.
Ares Westwood loves through actions, and that makes me smile.
“Ares,” I say softly.
He looks away first, jaw tightening as if he knows I have seen too much. “Don’t make it a thing.”
“I haven’t even said anything,” I say, amused.
“You’re looking at me like that,” he grunts.
I almost smile, but there is something in my chest that feels too tender for amusement, so I simply take another bite.
His eyes return to me, lingering just long enough to make my skin warm, and when he reaches to brush a crumb from the corner of my mouth with his thumb, neither of us says anything.
The touch is brief, his thumb pauses near my lower lip, and my breath catches before I can stop it. His eyes darken, and for a second the tray, the food, the mansion, the pack, all of it disappears beneath the heavy pull between us.
Then Ares’ Schattensicht buzzes on the table.
He exhales through his nose and reaches for it, his expression changing as he reads whatever message has come through.
It is subtle, but I feel the shift in him, his eyes narrowing in a way I can tell he’s actually thinking of something.
It’s an expression I haven’t seen before, sharper and more intelligent.
“What is it?” I ask, concerned.
“Just the Blue Moon Pack acting as if they can’t function without me,” he says, frowning down at his phone. “I’m going to have to get back first thing tomorrow.”
He is not merely my mate, or just Ares Westwood; he is an alpha. His pack needs him. His people look to him. There are responsibilities waiting beyond this room that cannot be ignored simply because the Blood Moon tied us together in the shadowed remnants of a pack long dead.
A sliver of cold rushes through me; he said, I’m… Does he not plan to take me with him?
“I see.”
He glances up, then frowns slightly when he sees my face. “What?”
I press my lips into a tight line and look away first, because I refuse to be the woman who looks wounded and needy. “Right. Of course. You have a pack.”
“I do.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you saying it like that?” he asks.
“Like what?” I ask emotionlessly.
“Like I’m doing something wrong by going back to it.”
Really, Westwood?
“Well, what about me?” I ask. “What’s next for us?”
Ares looks at me for a long moment. Then his expression softens, and he puts down his fork, rubbing the back of his neck. “What do you want to do, Charlotte?” he asks, voice low. Then he pauses, swallows hard and looks me in the eye. “Do you want to come with me?”
I go still. The words hang in the air, my heart racing.
He doesn’t look away, simply looking at me with that infuriating, intense gaze of his, as if daring me to make him regret asking.
My cheeks warm despite myself. “Are you inviting me?”
“We can’t stay here forever, and I need to get back. That doesn’t mean I want to leave you here. So yeah, I guess I am inviting you, Princess. Come with me.”
“And what would I be going as?” I ask, holding his gaze.
His eyes flash steel, and for a second, he says nothing. Then he’s leaning closer, taking hold of my chin and forcing my head upward.
“My mate.” My breath hitches, my heart betraying me, and that makes him smirk.
“My infuriating, too-proud, barely-fed mate,” he adds roughly.
“And I want you there. The pack will want to know you sooner or later. I don’t know the entire mechanics right now, or what you want, but if you want my insight, then yeah, I want you there – as my mate, as my luna, as my woman. ”
Those words send a wave of calmness through me, and I place my plate down on the tray and stand up. His shirt hangs off my shoulder as I look at him. “Then why haven’t you marked me?” I ask, keeping my voice level.
He looks at me intently with that same sharp look I’m not used to seeing on him. Then he places his plate down, too, and stands up; he closes the distance between us and takes hold of my upper arms.
“Because I didn’t want to rush you,” he says quietly. “Don’t for a second think that means I don’t want you, understood?”
I nod. “I’ll try not to,” I reply, meeting his gaze.
“Good,” he says huskily, then he searches my eyes, and I hope he understands before I have to ask him again. “Can I mark you, Princess?”
“Finally, I was beginning to worry I was going to have to spell it out for you,” I remark quietly.
“Well, lucky for you, I saved you doing that shit,” he replies, and then his fingers tangle into my hair before he tilts my head back and presses his lips against my neck. My breath hitches as his tongue flicks out and pleasure ripples through me.
And then he sinks his teeth into my neck, sending explosive pleasure rushing through me as my wolf surges forward and my eyes blaze.
My mate…
I feel the bond strengthen, feel everything heighten, and I hold on to him tightly, and when his tongue flicks across the wound, my breath shudders. Then he moves back and looks down at me.
“Happy?” he asks, licking his lips.
I nod and then glance at his neck. “My turn.”
He smirks faintly. “Think you’re going to need a little help,” he says before grabbing me from behind my thighs and hoisting me against him.
My heart hammers as my bare pussy presses against his waist, but I instantly lock my arms and legs around him, my eyes flickering to his neck, which is in perfect reach now.
“Mark me, Princess, let’s see how this feels once we’ve completed the bond fully…” he murmurs. I’m far too aware of his body against mine, his hands now holding my buttocks firmly.
I nod as I cup the side of his face, and he willingly leans into my palm with that expression on his face that is silently asking me what’s taking so long.
Slowly I lean in, my canines coming out, and I place a soft kiss on his neck before I sink my teeth into his flesh, marking him.
A low guttural sound escapes him, his hands tightening on me as the bond fully becomes one, our motions flooding through one another, and suddenly I feel complete, not even realising what I was missing until this moment.
Him.
My mate.
Ares.
We have marked one another, and I can’t help but smile, utterly satiated. But it seems he has other plans, because he tugs my head back and claims my lips in a deep, hungry kiss, one that sends pleasure dancing through me, the sparks sizzling like live wires.
This – this is home.