Chapter 17 Mona #2
He is so fucking gorgeous it steals my breath away.
His messy hair and beard, a rich honey, frame a sandy complexion, with fine lines creasing the corners of his blue eyes when he smiles.
But there's a hidden intensity to him, restrained power.
The way his wolf paces, flashing periodically, while the man's face remains gentle, makes me think his calm is a ruse.
His voice is husky. He smiles affectionately and begins making sandwiches and reheating soup. I almost tell him I can't eat all that, but then he pulls out three bowls, and my shoulders relax.
I can feel Grayson watching me. He's been quiet, and I've avoided looking directly at him. But after Orion runs out of things to say about the contents of their fridge, he sets the table, pretending not to watch the two of us. Waiting to see who will break first.
If I'll lose it again and start screaming.
Beep is on the verge of reminding me he isn't Silas. But the truth is, I can feel the difference. Smell it, sense it. I know it, down to my bones.
So I force myself to turn and look directly at him. Grayson arches an eyebrow, a smirk playing at his lips.
What a terrible time to feel heat lick down my spine.
It's teasing and puts images in my head that I'm nowhere near ready to look at.
But I can't help it. I shift backward, biting down the groan when I realize I'm getting slippery between my legs.
Suddenly my scent floods the air. I've been aware of it, always, but never more so since I became a wolf.
I smell like flowers. Jasmine, sweet and bright.
And honey. But right now, they take on an even sweeter tinge.
I let out a whimper. I don't even mean to, and I blame my omega, but the moment the sound escapes my lips, both wolves tense.
Orion's hand closes around one of the mismatched kitchen chairs, and it scrapes against the floor.
Grayson takes a step toward me, letting out another low rumble.
I can't bring myself to meet their eyes.
I grit my teeth, feeling my back molars grind against each other.
It does nothing to abate the heat burning through my skin, lower down my abdomen.
"I can't—this isn't—" A last-ditch effort to change the trajectory of my traitorous body, I look directly into Grayson's eyes. "Your brother tried to kill me!"
If there was anything that would douse the flames, it's that. But he doesn't flinch. He tilts his head, and if anything, he softens. As much as a man hard as him can.
I don't know where all my fear went. It used to be there for days, weeks, months. But right now, it's gone.
Yes, Doc told me they are different people, but still. They look so much alike.
Tentatively, I eye him up and down, bracing for any quick movement, but when he doesn't make any, I take a step forward. My hand shakes as I reach out.
His eyes are molten—lighter green, like sage, that seem to glow in this dim cabin light.
I have to reach up, he's so much taller than me.
He knows where I'm headed, and leans his head down so I can graze my fingertips over his left eye, tracing my thumb over his brow. He shivers and takes a sharp inhale.
He's not Silas.
If the long, dark hair, half-tied back with a leather strap, and the lack of scar didn't tell me…
his demeanor is different. I didn't spend enough time with Silas to know his personality, but he had this unusual blend of violent charisma that oozed off of him.
The man in front of me—Grayson—may be just as arrogant as his twin, but he's more standoffish.
Where Silas was reckless, Grayson is all coiled control.
And right now, that determination glows beneath his bright green eyes.
And he takes a step toward me, forcing me backward.
Well, fuck.
That backfired.
He takes another step, and my ass hits the kitchen counter.
He can sense my willingness to at least hear him out. Before he nudges further against my boundaries, I clear my throat, finding it surprisingly dry. "Look. Listen. I'm, umm… I know you're not him. So, we're good. Don't worry. I won't start screaming and throwing things at you again. Cool?"
Grayson ignores me. "I can smell your perfume. It seeps from between your legs, sweeter than anything I could ever imagine."
I look to Orion for help, but he's just tilting his head, watching curiously to see what I'll do, to see what Grayson will do. I almost call him a traitor, but Grayson's scent licks against me, and I suck in a sharp breath.
"Listen, I'm not… I don't know why my wolf keeps calling you my mate or whatever—"
"Wolves form packs. Bonded units, made up of any combination of designations. Alpha, Beta, Delta. Some are large, some small, only two shifters."
"That's nice. Really nice. But, uhh—"
"What do you know of the Moon Goddess?"
"Who?"
"Orion told me how little you know of our culture, so I'm explaining. The Moon Goddess is the magic within the earth. She is responsible for all of our power. All shifters, all witches, all magical beings."
"Are there other kinds of shifters?"
"Yes, but they are rare. The Moon Goddess chose which animals to share her magic with many eons ago. Some have become extinct. Many have dwindled. Wolves have thrived."
"Why?"
I wasn't expecting a history lesson. And with the way Grayson is still leaning toward me, pushing me into the counter like his brother did at that party months ago, I shouldn't be turned on. But he might as well be talking about my scent with the way his voice rumbles. Deep, sexy, unwavering.
"Because wolves are adaptable. Intelligent, social, diverse, and vital to the balance of the earth. Now, stop interrupting."
"Rude," I mumble.
Grayson smirks. "Fated mates are a gift bestowed upon shifters whose souls waited an eternity to be united. A flame of the same origin." He reaches out, ghosting his fingertips along my jawline. He's not even touching me, but I feel it, like his tongue is between my legs. My omega is panting.
Three days ago, I was still running for my life every other day. Scavenging for food, with no money and no things, and no showers or warm comforts—just the cold, hard ground and the constant fear of being hunted by other wolves.
And now I'm here, in this lovely home that smells of old wood and books and leather, with baskets of food and two alphas, the strongest of their kind, who make me feel more alive than I've felt in years, who I've known all of five minutes, telling me…
"Mona, you are my mate." Grayson's voice drops to a husky growl, so low it seems to vibrate into my bones.
His rough hand finally makes contact, callused fingers gripping my jaw, tilting my face up to meet his green gaze, making me shiver beneath his touch.
"You are Orion's mate. Nothing on this earth will ever come between us. "
Grayson leans in until his breath is hot on my neck.
His lips pause at my ear, and my scent blooms between us.
I'm soaked between my legs, desperate for him to push his hard body against mine, to fill this sudden, aching, gaping need inside me.
"Your body, your heart, your happiness—we claim them all.
We will shield you from the cold, from hunger, from every darkness that dares threaten what is ours. "
Grayson's teeth graze the shell of my ear, and I can't stop the moan from escaping my lips. It zaps like electricity, all the way through me, pulsing my clit. His voice lowers to a whisper. "Now. Come eat."
And then he steps away, with one hand gripping my shoulder, and I nearly trip on my way to the table.