The Hunger (The Lycans 3) - Page 35
“Who are you?” There was a pleading note within the string of words.
I slowly leaned back, the frail chair creaking in protest, threatening to break and splinter under me. “The question shouldn’t be who I am, but what am I?” I didn’t mean to sound so foreboding, so frightening, as if the end of the world had just come upon us. But the way her eyes flared, how she took in a sharp breath of air, and the way her body tightened told me that I pushed my mate. Maybe too far.
“Tell me ye haven’t wondered who ye are, where ye come from.” I waited a moment for her to answer, and when she didn’t, I pressed on. “Tell me why ye’re in Scotland.” My erection had gone down in the seriousness of the situation, and only then did I feel safe enough to uncross my arms over my chest. “Something drew ye here, yeah?”
She gave a jerky nod, and I was pretty sure she wouldn’t have cooperated in answering anything I asked if not for her shock right now.
I had a feeling she was now working solely on instinct, as if she wanted the answers that only I could give her. And I was the only male who could do that. Because I was hers the same as she was mine.
“Tell me. Tell me yer name and why ye came here.” My female. The only person who will ever hold my heart in her hands.
She was breathing harder, sweat blooming on her temples. It smelled sweet. It drove me crazy with need. I was a dirty bastard for thinking of her entire body covered in that light sheen of wetness, imagining it was because I had her legs spread and ate her out, licked her so thoroughly she strained to prolong the feeling, to hold off her orgasm.
“Do ye no’ wonder why ye donna fear me like common sense dictates?” Her nostrils flared as if her anger was rising. “Because I can scent ye. I can tell there are other feelings that take residence in yer body that have nothing tae do with being afraid of me.”
Her eyes were so wide they looked like dark saucers on her face. But despite her shock at my candor, there was no denying her arousal flared at that, as if calling her out on her reaction to me fueled her desire.
“What if I told ye that fantastical things in this world aren’t just between the pages of books and in movies?”
She was breathing harder with her rising emotions. “What, like vampires and shit?” Her voice was pitched high.
“Ask yerself why an American came tae Scotland, found herself in a little Gaelic village that’s immersed in wolfen folklore. And donna say ye came here tae sightsee, because we both know that was no’ the case.” My gaze was steady on hers. “Could it be that ye were trying tae find out who ye were? Was there something pulling ye here, a feeling that’s unexplainable, inexplicable? Are ye so lost that ye’re trying tae find anything that will tell ye who ye are?”
I was guessing all these things, using the scents I picked up surrounding her, the information I’d gotten by looking through her bag—a little guiltily, I might add—and seeing if what I said struck a chord. And by the sharp inhale she took, I knew I was close to her truth.
I didn’t have to know my mate’s name, hadn’t found a passport and any ID within her backpack. But I didn’t even have to know her story. I could read her body language and scent the roiling emotions within her to know where she stood and what she was after.
“What if I said that ye, yerself, are a part of this supernatural world?”
She closed her eyes and shook her head faster. “Please don’t tell me you’re trying to convince me of werewolves and dragons existing and all that stuff.”
“I’m not trying tae convince ye of anything.” I waited until she opened her eyes and looked at me again. “I’m trying tae tell ye the truth of the world we live in. Of my world. Of yer world.” I kept my voice level and clear. It was hard, the tone steady. But I wanted her to know this was the absolute truth. “I’m trying tae open yer eyes tae what is right in front of ye.”
And although it would take her a while to come to that understanding, I could see in her eyes that the realization flared inside her, that she knew the world around her wasn’t always so cut-and-dried.
I could see in her reaction to my words, and by the different scents coming from her, that my little mate questioned herself… and her sanity. She’d no doubt felt the draw to find answers and had felt the pull to go in a different direction.
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