False Confidence

Cielo

Azriel Huang

(NSFW)

I had always imagined the moment I would meet my mate. When I was a pup, it was with intense anticipation and excitement. Later in life, it was more of a burning curiosity. How could one be so infatuated with a complete stranger. To be enraptured by a scent, or unable to tear your eyes away from the person who was yours by godly intervention. A golden string attached by the souls.

None of my pipe dreams could hold a candlelight to the real thing.

The scent was the first thing to meet me in this spell of nearly unbearable desire. It was rich and all I could smell; herbal tobacco, untouched by man, covered with a musky sweetness coating it. As if dark amber was manifested into its own unique scent. I smelled spearmint gum and something undeniably male and Wren that made saliva pool in my mouth. Even though his scent was his own, it also somehow struck a chord of nostalgia within me. It reminded me of reading through picture books with my mom in the evening, it brought back the memory of my father teaching me piano in the morning, birdsong heavy in the fresh air. It was beautiful.

His scent was only second to his appearance.

With steel eyes meant to seduce, and perfect lips meant to cajole, I was entranced. Moonlight turned my mate into a gleaming god under its opal cast. With bronze skin, molten in the night and a body that left the impression of a marble statue beneath a tight black shirt.

Any imperfections didn't completely disappear from my weary mind, instead the bond only made me crave them as if they were things to be treasured rather than ignored. That pale, thin, inconsistent scar that skimmed down smooth skin only reminded me of glorious lightening striking down on brooding skies and his bruises only inspired a sense of concern within me. All I desired for in that moment was a soothing balm for his injuries and the selfish weakness to let myself kiss every hurt and wound on him like that was all my own lips were made for. That darkness that swam in his eyes made me want to let myself kiss his soul, to whisper comfort on his skin in the hopes that I might reach through the flesh and bones until my love ensconced his pained spirit. A pang of achingly warm affection flared in my chest, leaving me breathless.

I was mesmerized, and entirely focused on his very form that I had not realized he had moved towards the stranger with me. I had not realized that I no longer felt anyone pressed up behind me. I only realized once the copper fragrance of blood had entered my nose, that something was wrong. Survival instincts taking over my reproductive ones, I whipped my head to the source.

Somehow, in the blink of an eye, the mystery guy had ended up sprawled across the hardwood floor. He was gasping on his agony, clutching onto his stomach with squinted eyes. Wren reeled back for another blow, his posture tense and a manic rage about him that permeated throughout the room.

"Wren." I whispered weakly, bringing my slack body to standup straight. This wasn't right, why was that guy on the floor when all I could feel was love, warm and hot in my gut and chest.

As soon as the sound reached his ears, Wren abandoned the fury, preferring to appear at my side with worry in his gaze. He tilted his head, holding out a tentative hand to help steady me.

"Az." He rasped.

I was very shocked that I did not disintegrate and wither into the wind at that voice and all the adoration that it held. I didn't think on it for a second more, meeting my palm with his and lacing my fingers with his own. The physical contact sent a surge of heat from low in my gut, my skin fuzzy and warm.

"My room." I breathed out, the sound more sultry than I had intended. It was unavoidable with the lust quickly mounting within me. He stiffened at that, his eyes darkening at the suggestive tone. Wren scooped me up into his arms, gently and carefully like I was priceless, like I was the very stars hung on his hands.