Gideon

GIDEON

We sit staring at each other, breathing hard as if we’ve both just finished running a marathon. And this is just from touching hands. What will it be like when we finally mate? Bare skin touching bare skin from head to toe?

“Tell me you feel it too, Layla.”

She attempts to look away, to deny what she’s feeling—but I’m not about to let her do that.

I take hold of her chin and turn her face until her mesmerizing light-hazel eyes lock onto mine again. “Tell me I’m not the only one who’s feeling this.”

“You’re not the only one,” she breathes.

When I let her chin go, she looks down, and I can instantly see the wheels turning in her head, question after question forming in her mind.

“But why?” she finally asks.

Damn. I haven’t once thought about the best way to explain what’s happening without scaring her away.

The truth is, I brought her here this evening because I couldn’t bear to part with her now that I’d found her.

“Have you ever wondered if there’s someone out there who’s made just for you?” I ask lightly, watching closely for her reaction. “Perhaps you’re that for me.”

Her whole body becomes still, then she pulls her hand out of mine. “Please don’t joke about that.” She pauses, staring at me with wide eyes before she blurts out, “I know what you are.”

My own body tenses. That was the last thing I thought would come out of her mouth.

“And what is it you think I am, Layla?” My voice comes out harsher than I intended.

Her eyes dart around the empty room before she leans in and whispers, “I know you’re a lycan.”

How? Most humans aren’t aware of our existence, and even some werewolves—in parts of the world where they’ve never seen us—think we’re just a legend.

And when werewolves do see us, they sometimes mistake us for very powerful pureblood alphas.

“My father is a werewolf, and I grew up in a pack,” she says, answering my unvoiced question. “And let’s just say…I’ve encountered some lycans before.”

“I see.” I watch her carefully.

“So I already know about werewolves and their mates and lycans and your erasthais.” She narrows her eyes as if reprimanding me, then smugly folds her arms and lifts her chin.

She’s so adorable, I have to press a finger to my lips to suppress an amused smile.

Well, she can be as triumphant as she wants about her prior knowledge—I only see it as my advantage. “So you must know that lycans don’t joke about their erasthais then,” I throw in casually.

Our eyes lock and her proud smile wavers.

“And I guess you know that when a lycan finally finds his erasthai, he never lets her go—no matter what.”

“Yeah,” she huffs, but she’s sounding less confident and looking less smug. “So don’t joke about it.”

She scowls, trying to look stern. But she only succeeds in looking more adorable.

“As I told you, we lycans don’t joke about our erasthais. And when we find them, we want them to understand that they belong to us right away, even if that means tricking them into having dinner with us.”

“Oh…,” she breathes as the meaning of my words dawns on her.

I hear footsteps on the stairs, then delicious smells waft our way.

“Your pan-roasted sea trout and spaghetti rustichella are here,” our server announces pleasantly as she approaches our table. “Are you still working on your salad, miss?”

But my erasthai doesn’t answer.

She still looks dazed.

***

“Do you have a boyfriend, Layla?”

As I wait for her reply, my grip tightens on the steering wheel and the pressure of my foot on the gas pedal increases—accelerating the car way past the speed limit.

The thought of her with another man makes my blood boil, and my lycan threatens to come to the surface.

It doesn’t matter if she’s engaged or married; she’s still going to be mine…is already mine.

“No. No boyfriend,” she says.

My body relaxes, but only for a moment. “Then who are you going out with this weekend?”

She doesn’t reply right away, and when she does, it’s with a question of her own. “So that woman who’s living with you, she’s not your mate?”

“No,” I tell her.

“Is she your sister then?”

“No.”

“She’s your…uh, friend?”

“No. Look, Layla, she’s…” I shake my head. “Helen and I had an arrangement—one I thought was necessary at the time.

“My work requires a lot of traveling, and being on the road for decades by yourself can get lonely. Very lonely. And I’m not the type to go for casual hookups. I don’t have time for that.

“Helen agreed to be my companion until one of us found our erasthai.”

I can tell she’s hurt by my words, but there’s nothing I can do to change the past. “I’m sorry, Layla. It’s been so long. I never thought I’d find you.”

She sighs and looks over at me. “So what now?”

“Now? My arrangement with her is over.”

***

A faint scent of her still lingers in my bed.

Forget sleeping. It’s only been three hours since I left her at the doorstep of her house, and I’m fighting the urge to drive back there.

I promised myself that I’d give her time to think, to adjust to the idea of us, but this is killing me.

Light from the hallway suddenly streams into my bedroom, and a silhouette appears in the doorway. A moment later, the mattress dips and Helen’s weight presses down on me.

She feels and smells all wrong.

“No! Get off me, Helen.” I sit up and push her off the bed.

“What’s the matter with you, Gideon?” she snaps, glaring at me, hands on hips. She’s in see-through, lacy lingerie that hides nothing. “You haven’t visited me in my room for weeks—and now you’re pushing me away?”

I was planning to talk to her in the morning, but it seems I no longer have a choice in the matter. “Helen, we need to talk.” I get up and slip on the robe from the foot of my bed.

A look of dread passes over her face, which means she has an idea where this talk is going. She’s probably been expecting it for the past few months—or longer.

I sit on the chair in the corner of my room, while she takes the loveseat facing me.

I see no benefit to prolonging this, so I get straight to the point. “Do you remember the conditions of our agreement?” I ask her.

“Yes. We would be each other’s companions—”

“Until we found our erasthais. Well, I’ve found mine.”

She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. I’ve caught her by surprise.

“So you’re ending this,” she finally says. “Ending us.” She furrows her eyebrows. “Who is she?”

“Does it matter?”

She goes silent for a beat. “I guess not,” she says, her voice wavering. And when her lower lip quivers, I worry I’ll have to deal with a crying woman.

Believe me, I’ve seen Helen lose it over much less.

But then her expression clears and she gives me an overly bright smile. “I guess that’s it then?”

She gets up from her seat, sashays over, and lowers herself on my lap, then presses her body to mine and slips her hand inside my robe.

“What are you doing, Helen?”

“One more time, darling,” she whispers in my ear as she rubs my abs. “What do you say? Just once more…

“For old time’s sake,” she adds, just before she bites my earlobe.

LAYLA

It’s 2 a.m. Well, almost 2 a.m. I drop my phone on the mattress beside me.

The last time I checked the time was twenty minutes ago, and I’m still wide awake. My first night off work in days, and I can’t sleep.

It’s true that I’ve always wanted a mate…like my brother and sister, like my parents. But now that Gideon’s told me I’m his erasthai, I don’t know what to think.

Maybe I’m still in shock.

My mood swings are extreme: going from thrilled to nervous, scared to happy, wanting to run away screaming to wanting to swing from the chandelier—if I had a chandelier.

I go from wanting to push him away to fantasizing about kissing his perfect lips and climbing his hot, chiseled body like a tree and never letting go.

He asked me to accept him tonight…

But do I even have a choice? I mean, I’m not stupid. Lycans are dangerous, and they’re known for never letting their erasthais go.

There’s no place I could run to, nowhere I could hide. The thought terrifies me and thrills me at the same time.

Gideon told me that his job with the palace requires him to travel a lot—and isn’t that what I’ve always wanted? It sounded so great when it was in my head, tucked away in my dreams, but am I ready to just pack up and go?

This is all so unbelievable, and I’m probably going to wake up any minute and find out that it was all a dream. That he doesn’t exist.

Well that thought isn’t very pleasant. At all. In fact, it’s downright depressing. If he turns out to be just a figment of my imagination, I don’t know if I’ll recover.

And just like that, I have my answer.

***

After I brush my teeth and wash my face—and make sure my hair is covering the marks on my neck—I make my way into the kitchen.

Isaac is rinsing his bowl in the sink while Lana munches her cereal at the table.

Both of them are werewolves and technically belong to my pack, but they choose to live here for now. I don’t know how often they go back to visit, but I see them there once in a while.

“Wow, you’re up late today,” Isaac says with a grin. “Had a wild party last night?”

He knows I’m not into wild parties. I don’t have time for them, and I’m usually a morning person.

“Yeah, really wild, Isaac. I was dancing on the table, and I had pennies and nickels thrown at me from all directions. Fun night.”

He chuckles. “If only you’d agree to go out with me, Layla. I could show you a fun night.” Then he gives me a cheesy wink. Isaac is a flirt—harmless, but he can’t help himself when he sees a woman.

Lana rolls her eyes. “Boneheads,” she mumbles to herself as she scoops up more cornflakes to shove into her mouth.

Lana is pretty harmless too, but she’s our resident bitch. Gotta love my housemates.

“Why are you still home?” I ask Isaac as I pull out a carton of eggs from the fridge. “Don’t you have a house to sell or puppies to kick?”

Isaac is also a real estate agent. Yeah, hard to believe. For months, Quincy was convinced that Isaac was a male stripper.

“Nope. No house showing today. No puppies to kick either.”

He lifts his face and looks at the front door expectantly, and a few seconds later there’s a knock.

Damn werewolf hearing. I wish I could do that.

Lana grumbles moodily, but Isaac says, “I’ll get that.”

He answers the door, then walks back in with a big assortment of flowers. The bouquet is enormous and beautiful and must have cost a fortune, and even Lana perks up when she sees it.

“Delivery for Ms. Layla Emanuel,” Isaac announces as he places the flowers on the kitchen counter.

Lana scowls and goes back to eating her cereal.

“Isaac!” I yell when he snatches the card before I can. Now I remember why I have the urge to kill him sometimes.

“Thinking of you. Thank you for last night—G,” Isaac reads loudly.

His eyes grow big, then he looks over at me. “Wait! What did you do? I mean, you didn’t really dance on a table last night, did you?”

***

I text Gideon and thank him for the flowers while I’m in class. He messages me back, but mentions that he’s in a meeting.

Throughout the day, he drops me random messages. Some make me smile. Some make me laugh. All of them make me giddy.

In fact, my heart beats faster every time I hear my phone ding with an incoming message.

I reply to almost all of them, hoping that my messages don’t sound too silly.

Just as I finish texting him the question, I hear “Hey, Donut Cream Pie!”—and Derek takes a seat across from me.

“Hi, Derek.” I smile at him and put my phone back on the table. “Can you please not call me that?”

He grins. “Why not? You look sweet enough to eat.”

I notice his ginger hair has been cropped short—new haircut.

Derek and I have been friends since the first semester of our first year, but I’ve been aware of his feelings for me since the start of this semester, when he asked me out on a date.

I don’t feel anything for him beyond friendship, but he’s been persistent, and I figured he’s better than Kofi.

I guess that’s why I agreed to go out with him—and not because I’m a loser who can’t say no to people.

“We’re still going out this Saturday, right?” he says.

I don’t blame him for asking. I’ve canceled on him twice already. I’m just surprised he hasn’t given up.

“Uh…umm…” I have no idea what to say.

Right on cue, my phone dings. Probably a reply from Gideon. My fingers itch to grab the phone and read it.

“My mom, uh…”

“Oh, come on, Layla. You’re not canceling on me again, are you? Don’t tell me your mom is forcing you to go home again this weekend.”

I have a feeling that if I cancel on Derek again this time, it’s going to cost me his friendship.

And my mom is forcing me to go home again. At least she’s trying. I feel like I’m being pulled in so many different directions.

Have family dinner with Kofi grinning at me from across the dining table, or go out with Derek, which could be leading him on?

Or spend time with Gideon, a dangerous lycan who’s claimed me as his own?

What are you going to do, Layla? What are you going to do?