Rille (Tribes, Book 2)

Chapter 14

Brielle hadn't started the day expecting to get pinned to a bed by a whole hunk of a shifter who insisted that she belonged to him. But then, no one would have expected that.

Her quick temper often put her in situations that were hard to control and even harder to get out of. She definitely should have thought before she goaded him. Shifters were notoriously unstable, after all. But Preston had been nothing but stable since she met him. She hadn't calculated for the shifter side of him.

Brielle placed a hand against her cheek where he had rested his fingers. They hadn't been sharp or hard or angry. They had been incredibly gentle. As though he really cared.

Boy, did she need to snap out of her delusions. Too many romance novels and not enough reality. That's what she got for dating an antiromantic like Lou.

The pain of his betrayal hit her all over again, square in the chest. She had devoted herself to him for two whole years. She had been dreaming of marrying him.

In hindsight, she didn't know why. He never made her heart flutter or her mind swoon.

But the betrayal itself still stung. It only confirmed what Brielle had already known. She wasn't worth the wait, or the time, or the effort.

Sooner or later, Preston would get tired of her too.

The wolf-man in question clanged around the kitchen too loudly. Whether to make a point or to ease his own anger, Brielle would rather not know. She already knew the weight of her own temper. It was fiery, and it tended to burn other people. She might have pushed it too far with Preston, earlier. After all, she didn't understand the mating mark at all.

Brielle turned her head to one side, her eyes landing on a handwritten leather journal that had ended up at the foot of the bed. The Mating Bond and All Its Inner Workings.

As far as book titles went, it was... quite honestly horrible. But if it actually contained the knowledge she needed to understand Preston's view of the mating mark, it might be worth a perusal.

At the end of all of her ropes, Brielle snagged the journal and flipped it open.

As horrible as the title was, it had been descriptive. The journal started with a brief introduction to werewolves and mating marks, none of which sounded like Brielle's situation, but all of which made sense given what she knew because of her friend Liana.

Things got weirder from there.

Brielle had never realized to what extent a mating mark connected a wolf and his mate. Physically, emotionally. Sexually. The more she read, the more enlightening the content.

Preston rapped his knuckles against the door. "Come eat something. You have medicine you need to take."

Brielle snapped the journal closed as if she had been reading something illegal. Everything felt surreal nowadays, and the ins and outs of the mating mark were no exception. However, if she could master that connection, maybe she could change the status quo in her favor.

Considering the fact that Preston would probably not ask her nicely a second time, Brielle tossed the journal aside and padded out of the bedroom.

The aroma of bacon, cream, and pasta teased her nose and started her mouth to salivating. Unfair, that Preston knew how to cook on top of all his other great qualities. It was getting harder and harder to hate this shifter.

Brielle propped herself up on a stool at the kitchen counter. "You cook?"

It was better than anything else she had to say, most of which was derisive and prickly.