The Black Lily

Chapter 7

As soon as the word 'No' leaves my mouth, he's there towering over me and engulfing my wrist in one of his large callused hand. Whatever he planned on doing or saying though, is lost the moment his hand meets my skin and I hear him take a sharp intake of breath.

I don't have time to react, only managing to suck in a hard breath of my own at his proximity and his touch; which is surprising soft for someone of his size. His touch sears my skin and sends tendrils of heat up my arm, spreading to every inch of my body and igniting parts of me that have long been dormant. The sensation and new feelings are so overwhelming, that I find myself wanting to lean into his chest.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Reality hits me like I just jumped into an icy river and has me steeling my spine where I stand to avoid the embarrassment of leaning into him, leaning into a complete stranger. It takes all I have to remember where I am and focus on anything but what I'm feeling. Yet, these feelings are ones that I haven't felt in years and it's caught me off guard, as I realised just how much I've missed feeling them. Feeling the warmth of being close to someone and the biggest one I have struggled so hard with, is feeling safe with someone.

Safe?

I've only felt safe with one person throughout my life and it's not the man standing before me. It's with that, I'm shoving these long dormant feelings down and moving my gaze from my wrist to his face.With a mind full of thundering thoughts, I take a step back and pull my hand out of his grasp to clear the noise; before schooling my features into indifference.

'Don't touch me' I choke out but it's more of a whisper than anything else

He doesn't look up or seem to hear what I have said, as he stands there looking at his hand; like he's also finding it hard to grasp the reality of our situation, just like I am.

I'm at an utter loss for words just like he is at what's happening and at what I'm feeling. Before he touched me, I could have maybe convinced myself that what was happening had been made up in my head. That the wolf in front of me, wasn't my mate but just someone I had conjured up these feelings for; because of his unnatural beauty. From his height, his toned and muscled body that his clothes can't hide, his jet black shaggy hair that falls just below his ears, his strong jawline accentuate by his close shaven stubble, straight nose, tanned skin like he spends to much time in the sun and his unnatural midnight eyes.

Fuck, The man is something to behold....

All those physical attributes combined with the aura of strength and dominance, would be enough to seal the deal and have any women swooning over him. So there is an somewhat of an explanation for foreign feelings I have for him; yet I know myself. I don't fall for strangers as easily as the next women, especially just because of their looks.

I haven't even taken a man to bed in over seven years and it's not because I haven't had the opportunity. I haven't wanted or needed to because with pain that runs as deep as mine; well, it changes you and how you see everything. It changes you in a way that makes you almost immune to such things, almost like a shield to help protect your heart; and help wade through the bullshit of what so many people fall pray too.

So I know and deep down before he ever touched me, I knew what he was to me and I him; just like I knew what Henrik was to Abby. I've heard enough stories about the day others have found their mates and how the attraction and connection is there the moment your eyes met. I'll blame the adrenaline coursing through my veins and the situation we are in, for clouding my judgement and keeping me distracted from the truth. Though, with the lingering sensation of his grip there's no distracting myself from it; nor pushing it away or denying what I know we are both struggling to disgust.