I'm a straightforward girl. I see what I like and I take it. It's been the same when I was little and it's still the same now. So when I went out clubbing with my friends that night and I saw this highly attractive guy, I just knew I had to have him...
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My finger lightly trailed her arm as she shifted and turned in her sleep.
I could feel it. The tension simmered under the surface as her hand buried itself under the pillow beneath her head.
She was a fighter.
One who'd been through hell, I could tell.
Her perception, her furtive glances she thought I wouldn't notice as we walked back to the tent. Despite her relaxed posture, her eyes screamed caution.
She didn't trust easily, and I knew there was more to her story than she led us to believe. I was afraid to probe any further, terrified she'd run before I got the chance to show my sincerity. To show that as my soulmate, I would do anything to keep her beside me.
As I rubbed circles into her skin, my eyes trailed her upper body, which was uncovered and left bare for me to admire. I noticed something.
Right where her heart should be, there was a mole. A little black mole in the space between her breasts. Did she always have a mole there?
I'd never noticed before.
Curiously, I used my finger and lightly pressed against it.
Her body instantly jolted upwards, and her small, dainty hand quickly grabbed my own. I looked up in surprise to see Celeste's eyes wide open, staring at me coldly.
My heart shuddered as our eyes clashed. This was the first time I'd ever seen her this expressionless.
Was she really human?
"Celeste?" I probed slightly, my voice jolting her from her trance.
She blinked, and her eyes slowly regained their warmth.
"Are you alright?" I asked, worried that I had done something wrong.
She frowned and glanced at her hand, which was still wrapped around my own. She moved it away from her chest and asked, "What are you doing?"
Her voice sounded wary, and I couldn't bring myself to joke around as I honestly replied. "There's a mole on your chest. I thought it was cute and was simply touching it."
She pursed her lips and dropped my hand. Then she grabbed the blanket and tugged it up to cover her chest.
"I don't appreciate you touching me when I'm asleep," her voice clipped.
I felt her pulling away, and it startled me. We were fine just the night before.
This would be so much easier if she'd tell me what was bothering her.
"I'm sorry," I apologized, pulling away and running my hand through my hair. "I did not intend to harm you."
I shouldn't be frustrated, I knew that, but I couldn't help the thought that this would all be better if she were also a werewolf. Maybe then she'd understand my feelings and dedication to making our relationship work.
