Silver and Cold |h.s.|

22. The Claiming

Fire.

There is a fire burning inside of you and it is raging.

Niall is smiling down at you with a flimsy, half used napkin he found on the bar dangling between his fingers as Harry continues over to the bar to grab a towel to clean up the mess. Cold water soaks through your blouse but it does nothing to simmer down the hot fury roiling underneath your skin.

It's a heat that almost feels like it is powerful enough to make you transform into your wolf form.

Thank the gods for that impossibility.

Eyes are upon you. Bartender, local clientele...and your sweet human is doing his best to rescue you in his small way, collecting napkins and paper towels where he can find them laying about.

Niall just stands there like a triumphant god. Like he has vanquished a mighty beast but he has awoken something very, very dangerous.

"Do you feel better?" Your voice hints a warning and Niall only crosses his large arms in front of his chest, a winner...for now.

"I'd say I feel mighty good about myself, yeah," He leans forward, the lighter brown hair falling onto his forehead, his crisp blue eyes shining with glee, "you were a bit too close for comfort to poor Harry. He deserves better than a mongrel like you."

"A mongrel." You seethe, a low growl rippling from your chest at the word and mischief lights in Niall's eyes at the prospect of what the growl could possibly mean. You have never felt this angry in your entire life. Never. Not once. You aren't sure what has provoked this level of deep hatred but an itchiness has cascaded down your spine that feels a lot like...territorial.

"And what, Niall? He deserves you?" You lift an eyebrow, squeezing your fists down at your sides as you do everything you possibly can to stay in your chair, "He doesn't even know what you truly are." You grin wickedly at the frown that grows onto Niall's pink lips.

"Oh and he knows what you are?"

"Yes, in fact, he does," Niall scoffs and that itchy feeling returns between your shoulder blades, "and even if he didn't, what goes on between Harry and I is our business. Not yours." Niall rests his two large hands on the edge of the table, the napkin between his fingers now crushed against the hard wooden edge.

"He's my best mate," his voice is low and you can swear you can see claws forming beneath the skin of his fingertips, "He doesn't need some filthy vixen warming his bed." That feels like a smack in the face and you cannot help your wince.

"Jesus Niall, do you hear yourself? Are you in love with him or something?" Because that is the only reason, the only reason why he would be acting this way. He's in love with Harry and that would explain this behavior.

Niall just lets out a laugh that is all sarcasm and rakes a shaky hand through his scraggly waves. He looks like a man strung out, like he needs another hit of something to take the edge off but...that hit isn't for another few weeks.

"No, of course not! But what would you even do if I was?" That shit eating grin is back on his face and the idea that he could be in love with Harry and that Harry would choose Niall over you...

It has you seeing red.

"He is mine."

Niall takes a step back even though you can tell he didn't want to but he is looking into your eyes like he is afraid for once. And he should be...he should be very afraid.

What Harry finally admitted to you tonight could not be taken back. His soul had laid claim over yours. Your essence was his. He was yours as you were his and nothing, not even Niall, could take that away now.