The Iridescent Wolf

Chapter Eight (Elliot's POV)

I can feel my wolf itching under the surface of my skin as my eyes follow the movements of my mate's hips. I do my best to keep him at bay, but her sweet scent was the only thing I could smell, making my job a hell of a lot harder. Calm down, boy, you don't want to freak her out; I think to myself as I tear my eyes off of her petite frame. I run my hands through my hair, frantically trying to figure out how I got into this situation, but my mind draws a blank. One second I'm getting out of the shower after a long day of meetings and the next I'm leading my mate to one of our many kitchens to feed her a midnight snack. Two and two make five tonight.

"So, what kind of work do you do around here, El?" Her soft voice interrupts my unhinged thoughts and my heart jumps when I find her staring up at me. Her big doe eyes exude a comforting warmth that makes my heart burn with bliss. Her brows furrow with confusion and it takes me a moment to realize she asked me a question.

"P-Pardon?" I sputter out, hating the way my face flushes with embarrassment.

"What kind of work do you do around the castle? U-Unless you don't work here. I-I apologize for assuming," she meekly stumbles around her words before quickly hiding her flushed face behind a waterfall of pale blonde hair. I swallow a growl as my nails dig into my palms. Neither me nor my wolf liked the way she reacted. It felt as if she were trying to put us at a distance and make herself seem smaller than she already was.

"No, no, I do work here at the castle. I, umm, I work in the treasurer's office. Nothing too special," I quickly tell with a shrug of my shoulders. I felt a twinge of guilt at my lie, but I did not know how she would react to me being the future alpha king, and something in my gut told me that now was not the time to bring it up.

"I see." Her brows furrow in thought as she ponders my response, and an awkward silence settles over us. I search every nook and cranny of my brain to think of a topic for us to talk about but nothing comes of it, at least nothing that I could tell her about now. The situation we were experiencing, although unbeknownst to her, was unprecedented and as much as I wanted my many questions to be answered, I knew it was inappropriate to ask. I had to handle every moment I had with her delicately, test the waters.

After a couple more minutes of grueling silence, we finally arrive at the kitchen. I carefully guild her to one of the many high-back chairs surrounding the large grey marble island and sit her down facing me. I feel my breath catch in my throat as our eyes connect and I have to physically tear myself away from her to start on the food. Geez, that was dangerous, I think to myself as I rifle through the cabinets in search of a pot.

I feel a shiver run down my spine and subtly peer back at her from the corner of my eye. I flush at the intensity of her gaze as she watches me dig through the fridge. Seriously, way too dangerous. After getting all the ingredients needed, I set everything on the countertop and get to work. Now I wasn't exactly a trained chef or anything, but I knew my way around a mean pasta thanks to all the time spent in the kitchen with my mom.

"Y-You really don't need to do all of this for me." Her meek voice startles me and I nearly slice my finger off. I look back at the island and find her, head down, with her hands rung together worriedly. "S-Seriously, I'm ok with just a slice of bread and some butter."

"Don't worry about it. I'm also in the mood for a hearty midnight snack," I clarify with a grin.

"If you say so," she mutters, her eyes never lifting from the floor. A growl of disapproval escapes my mouth, and I instantly want to kick myself as pure horror washes over her face. She flops to the ground and I cringe at the sound of her knees hitting the marble floor. "I am so sorry. I didn't mean to sound disrespectful or ungrateful."