To Kiss A 𝙹𝙴𝚁𝙺𝚆𝙰𝙳 [Werewolf/ Vampire Romance]

13. THE DISCORD [TRISTAN]

—To save the boy, Selene struck down her beloved companion, the great wolf Kair, and lay down its pelt to coax him back to life.

[TRISTAN]

AS THE MINUTES ticked by, each one that went beyond the designated hour was causing my irritation to grow, and I couldn't shake the nagging question from my mind: Why am I even doing this?

Alex was insufferable, a force of nature with a sharp tongue. She challenged authority, scoffed at convention, and seemed to revel in every opportunity to provoke me.

The very thought of spending hours in close quarters with her was enough to test the patience of a saint.

So why did I agree to this? Why did I willingly subject myself to the inevitable clash of egos that were sure to come?

In some twisted way, I was starting to enjoy it.

That fragile, curvy little frame housed a raw and untamed spirit, a quality I could begrudgingly respect, even if it clashed violently with my own nature.

Zain hated how she wouldn't listen.
How she would always stand up to us.
He wanted to make her submit and it was becoming a challenge lately, to keep him under control.

As a human, she was technically the lowest rank in the entire pack, lower than an Omega, and he thought she needed to learn her place, but this tiny human girl simply wouldn't back down, wouldn't yield an inch, not to me.

But who could blame her? She was genuinely clueless.

And that was the crux of it.

A human in a pack full of shifters, I can't just ignore it.
Every time she snaps at me I have to bite back. I can't help it, she's just begging for it.

But lately, just being around her was making my hormones go insane.

I'd been trying to convince myself that I wasn't pining at all.
That I wasn't treating her this way because I couldn't touch her. Or because I wanted her to keep looking at me.
To keep talking to me even if all I'd get was sarcastic remarks.

I've been trying to hide it as well as I can, how attracted I am to her. How much more attracted I grow every day.

She always smelled so good.
Too good.
It was maddening. Almost addictive.
It was like warm honey and wildflowers, rich and sweet, and it would linger everywhere she went.

And sometimes it would even come to me when she was out of proximity; like a song you're hard pressed to forget but can't get out of your head. The more you try, the longer it persists, playing over and over and over again.

"Mark her."

I want to.

"She's not our mate."