He is mine

I'm better off as a lone she-wolf.

YAY!!! ANOTHER CHAPTER!!! WARNING: UNEDITED. lol, all my chapters are unedited. Anyway, i hope you enjoy this chapter and sorry if it disappointed you. I did my best, well, i think its my best. Oh and i want to say thank you to my readers who still stick by me though i did many disappearing acts. I am a damn good magician. ENOUGH RAMBLING! Okay, shesh. Go on. ENJOY.

Chapter twenty

I slapped both my hands onto the door and pushed, it almost worked with the element of surprise on my side. His foot stuck out and prevented the door from closing completely, making a small gap between him and me. I growled in frustration and tried to kick his foot back, it would have worked if only I didn’t forget about my own injury.

Argh!

My hands left the door to nurse my injured foot. Stupid piece of glass!

I was momentarily hit by vertigo as my feet lifted from the ground and my hands flailing to grasp onto something. It was too late when I realized, Richard was carrying me bridal style.

I fought against his hold.

“What are you—aah! Let go!”

“I thought I smelt blood.” He growled lowly, carrying me towards the couch.

“Richard, I’m warning you, let go…or…or…”

“Or?” He raised a brow, challenging me. I’m ashamed to say I let the sight of his gorgeous face (that I secretly longed for, not that I’m going to admit it to his face) distract me from a good retort.

“Or…I’ll kick you out!” It was embarrassing.

He smirked, my foot hurts as hell and he’s smirking at me? I take back what I said about his face. His gor—ugly face doesn’t effect me at all!

Looking closer, he still looks dashing as ever. More rugged but it adds to his charm but I knew him more than I knew myself, I instantly detect the hints of exhaustion on his face. I reckon he hadn’t seen a shaver for weeks and his hair had never heard of a comb. The shirt he’s wearing was badly crumpled. This weary Richard sends a pang to my heart.

My Richard doesn’t forget to shave. My Richard always has neat hair. My Richard doesn’t wear crumpled shirts.

He sat me down on the couch and surveyed the house with his eyes.

“Where’s the first aid kit?” I scowled.

“I’m a werewolf, I don’t need first aid kits. Look, its healing already.” Not at a usual healing rate for werewolves but its still healing. Leaving Richard had some unfortunate disadvantages.

He ignored me and went into the bathroom then coming out not a minute later. He placed the kit on the coffee table and lifted my legs so that they rested on his lap. For minutes, we sat in silence as he tends my wound.