His Beloved

Chapter XII

www.bethanyshayporteous.com
https://www.facebook.com/Bethany-Shay-Porteous-283457555158191/

Chapter XII

Alana and I walked into the house the following day after school and I was ready to sit down with her and tell her about what I had done last night, I needed her insight on this – what she made of it.

I hung up my blazer and lugged my heavy bag into the sitting room, my mind still swirling with what Aron had told me. I had woken up secure in his arms and it felt nice. There were more  secrets between us however I still had to come to terms with what he had told me.

We both had a lot to work through right now, we had had a very shaky start at this but at least now he was being more honest with me. I knew why he was so volatile and hateful toward werewolves and deep down I knew pat of him didn't trust me not to hurt him the way his sister had.

But he had hurt me, and he needed to realise that.

I knew that with him being so honest with me I needed to tell him that I was connecting with my powers – I hadn't even told Alana, part of me was terrified if I did the ability to do what I was created to do would disappear again.

As I set my books down with Alan's I excused myself to go in search of Aron – having never really intentionally sought him out before I was a bit nervous. But if we were to make this work and at least find a chance at a small piece of happiness then someone had to make a move.

He had revealed more than I thought possible, so now it was my turn.

Communication, something I had not been very good at either.

As I reached the door of his office I wondered if he was even home, he'd probably still be at the council. Pushing the door open warm air and the sound of a fire crackling greeted me as well as the shuffling of papers.

Nervous I swallowed and entered the room, Aron looking up at me wearily.

"Hi," I squeaked as I moved further into the room. He continued to watch me as I slowly walked over to his desk, nervously twisting my hands as I came around beside him, mirroring an action I'd seen my mother constantly do when my father had spent hours at his desk.

Placing my hands gently on his shoulders I gave them a light squeeze and I bit my lip as I felt his body relax. His arm came around, holding me to his body, his head resting upon my chest. "How was your day?" I tried to say casually, but my voice was shaking. Probably because with this gesture I was giving him his chance.

His chance to redeem himself and Morganna did it terrify me that he might blow it and hurt me again.

"Exhausting," I heard him mutter, his hold tightening. He pushed his chair back the tiniest and pulled me to stand in between his legs, his hands on my waist. He gazed up at me with a look of hope and love and I swallowed the nervous lump in my throat as my stomach flipped. "Thank you...for letting me try again," he whispered.

I felt my eyes water and I knew that this emotion had been bottled up and was ready to explode, "you – you can't hurt me l-like that ever a-again...y-you can't slap me and t-then try force yourself o-on me," I stuttered out as my body shook in between tearful demands. "You cannot use our b-bond to try and m-make me want it if I d-don't," I whispered. Swallowing I looked at him square on in the eye, and I had never felt stronger.

He opened his mouth to speak but I held my hand up, I was on a roll and I didn't want to break focus. I needed to say everything.

"You can't hurt me for having an opinion or...or," I sniffled and swallowed more tears, "or force me to undress before you if I don't feel c-comfortable." Taking a deep breath I closed my eyes and gathered my thoughts before blinking them open, "you need to promise me this."