The Reluctant Mate

40 Amanda

"And it's really been six months since the night we met?" I asked Porter for the third time as we were driving, trying to wrap my mind around the way time flew.

"Yes. Ask the luna if you don't believe me," he said.

"I do believe you, I just can't believe it."

"Okay?"

"It just doesn't feel that long to me."

"Well, there was about a month of you ghosting me in there, and then another of you deciding if you were going to give me a chance or not, and then about two more of cautious dating...and then two months of pure bliss," he said in an even matter-of-fact tone. I still felt a bit bad about the early days. The more I got to know about Porter and his wolf the more I understood how badly he had been hurting.

I felt like shit about it, even though he would just gloss it over when I tried to bring it up.

I'd been talking to my counsellor about any number of topics, and it was maybe helping even though it was miserable because she always wanted to talk about the things I was avoiding, and it was also inconvenient that I couldn't be open about werewolves. Maybe there was some professional that knew about that side of the world I could switch to.

Still, I was managing to have a pretty normal relationship with Porter the last couple of months—except our sex life, which was abnormally satisfying—and I didn't feel so guarded with him anymore. I was starting to feel genuinely safe, which was foreign and good.

"What are you thinking about so hard?"

"Oh, lots of things."

He didn't push me for a better answer. I'd come to appreciate the way he'd just take my nonanswers and wait for me to get to the point I wanted to talk about it. Porter and I had a lot of push and pull, but Porter wasn't like my ex.

Sure, he was a stubborn pushy overbearing ass some of the time, but he would always give in to my needs. And he never lashed out when we had a difference of opinion, although he wouldn't roll over when he thought something was important. And he was super weak to my tears, although I of course I did everything I could to avoid them, because he'd already seen more than enough of my horrifying crying.

"You didn't tell me it was half a year today," I commented.

"I wanted to surprise you."

"I was surprised. I didn't get the feeling you liked cats."

Porter shrugged. "I don't hate them."

"Good. Because you're not allowed to chase Uno," I teased.

"We don't chase cats. Already told you I'm not a dog."

"Well, aren't wolves and dogs basically the same thing?" I asked innocently, because I knew it would bother him.

"Ugh."

I laughed at his reaction. It was amusing. And more importantly, it proved he didn't have a hair trigger when it came to dealing with me, even if I insulted his pride. He definitely had a lot of it—seemed like most werewolves did—but little things rolled right off of him.

Although he really did not like it when someone checked me out, but other than glowers he never acted on it. Even actively flirting with other men—which I'd done to test his reaction in our earliest days of dating—only made him grind his teeth together in obvious aggravation and sometimes wrap himself around me and stare other men down until they retreated.

I would have thought it was impossible, but I felt like I could trust him. Most of the time. I didn't think that little voice that reared up to question my judgement would ever entirely go away. But at least it was quieter now.