Mr. Werewolf, Will You Love Me?

(7) I guess I am officially an item of lover boy's plans

            Hello dere :3 Sorry about taking so long with the whole update thing and stuff. I had to re-write this whole chapter because the original sucked pretty badly. I hope this one isn’t as suckish and thank you all so much! For everything, for reading, for waiting, for adding, for following. Thank you all :3 it’s not proofread so sorry for any mistakes and I hope I do you all proud!

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Chapter 7: I guess I am officially an item of lover boy’s plans

Mating is a funny thing. What is mating? Well, when two mates meet, they are bound by an eternal bond, a natural one, on a physical, mental, and spiritual level. The only way to concrete this bond is to mate.

            And how does one wolf do that?

            Part 1: Sex. (hehe…)

            Part 2: The transfer of marks.

            Part one is pretty self-explanatory. Part two though, is a bit advanced. When a wolf is born, they are born with tattoo-like mark(s). Male wolves are born with two marks. Females are born with one mark. The first mark is located on both genders, male and female, and it is a mark to represent the clan or pack you were born into. This mark is located on the neck skin behind the ear. The pack I was born in, the MoonlightSpark pack’s mark was a twinkling crescent moon, a mark I still have. The Embers pack has a glittering flame. The next mark is one only male wolves are born with. It is located on the right side of the hip bone. This mark is catered to the wolf; no two wolves have the same mark. It represents the individual. When mating, the male wolf bites the female on the crook of the neck, and this leads to the transfer of marks. The female, after mated, gets her mate’s mark on her hip bone. It marks her as mated, his, and it increases their bond. Humans can’t see these marks.

            I stare at Blake’s hip bone in the dim, moonlit room. His pajama pants are low slung and one arm is draped around my waist. It’s a beautiful red and black rose, his mark. The petals are painted a blood red color, the stem and leaves and thorns of the rose are black but red drips onto them in colored beads of vibrance.

            I could have that mark. I could be his. It wouldn’t be hard. He even said all I’d have to do is ask.

            My eyes wander up his abdomen, up his stomach, lingering at his chest, where his heart is, up his neck and to his face. He looks younger, his dark hair skirts his forehead and the ends touch his closed eyes. His lips twitch into a smile. He looks so peaceful in the dark of the room. Stray beams of moonlight filter through the curtains and flirtatiously illuminate his face. I move closer to him and his grip around my waist tightens comfortingly. A small smile touches my lips. I wrap my legs around his and he subconsciously pulls me closer so I’m flush against him. I touch my forehead to shoulder and close my eyes to the picture of Blake’s peaceful smile.

            I hope to see that smile again.

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            “Wakey-wakey beautiful,” a groggy voice calls me.

            I groan. I don’t want to wake up. I’m perfectly fine staying in bed with Blake for the rest of forever. He chuckles. I sigh and slowly open my eyes. He’s laying there, his hair perfectly tousled, his arm slung around me.

            “Morning” he slurs out. I smile at him. I snuggle into him and he chuckles.

            “Get up babe, we have school,” he reminds me, still chuckling. I groan, burying my face in his chest.