Everlasting

Chapter 14

Wulfric

"Want me to show you?" Griffin said. His voice was a husky whisper that made me want to take everything he was offering me, but there were a couple of problems with that. Primarily, that we had nowhere private to go. I briefly entertained the idea of kicking Arlo out of his room for an hour or two, but I knew better.

Griffin might talk a good game. He might act bold and explorative, and he might touch me like he had a lot of experience, but after all my reading about his species, I understood that I had to treat him gently, at least for now. He had clearly kissed someone before. Maybe if he'd been feeling really adventurous, he would have even done some heavy petting. Whatever experience he thought he had, it was nothing compared to what I would do to him. Werewolves liked to go from zero to a hundred with their mates, and I was sure Griffin was no exception. He wouldn't understand how we could fool around without becoming fully committed, and the hard reality was that we were nowhere near ready for that. So, better not.

"Patience," I whispered to Griffin, and kissed him again to stop any follow-up questions. Or, that was one reason. Mostly, I kissed him because I needed closeness with Griffin like I needed blood. This connection felt vital to me, like having a phantom limb miraculously returned. Deep inside, I recognized him as the piece my life had always been missing.

Griffin bucked his hips up and ground against me, something that must have taken impressive abdominal strength when he was laying beneath me. What else could this toned body of his could do?

I pulled back and pressed a kiss to his temple, hoping that would soothe any small rejection he felt when I shifted back into a seated position. Griffin sat up and shot me a rueful smile while one hand teased at his hair, which was mussed.

"Fine, but you don't know what you're missing," he said.

"Do you?" I couldn't resist teasing.

But that only made his smile falter. His body language closed off, with his hand leaving his hair so his arms could cross and his posture drawing inward. "I can't decide if you're being racist," he said softly.

"What?"

He glared at me. "I said, I can't decide if you're being racist. You sure have a lot of assumptions about what a werewolf is supposed to be like."

How had the mood shifted so quickly? Griffin looked truly angry with me now. "I apologize, I meant no offense."

"If there's an idea in your head of what I should be like, you're going to be disappointed," he said. He still held the same angry posture, and his eyebrows were still drawn in to glare at me. Something in his eyes shifted, though, and I recognized this for what it was: Griffin was lashing out to cover up his insecurity.

"I could say the same to you," I said. In fact, I was certain I had already been the cause of much disappointment for Griffin since I entered his life. He would have expected a mate who would instantly snatch him up, whispering promises of forever. Not a vampiric shut-in who pushed him away.

That seemed to make Griffin pause, and he squinted at me like he was trying to figure me out. "My mom gave me away when I was a toddler," he said. I stared, trying to see where he was going with this and failing. "I'm twenty-one and I still live at home with my parents," Griffin continued. "My life isn't going anywhere. I have no sense of direction, no career path I'm pursuing. My only real friend is my cousin. My hair is too frizzy and my eyes are too far apart. I'm pretty sure my left foot is a little bigger than the right one. I'm afraid of airplanes, so all our family vacations had to be local. I've never kept a job for more than a couple of months, even the ones in my own pack. And..."