The Fìdhlear ✔️

•*Chapter Eleven; "Erin & Michael."*•

MY eyes fluttered, staring at the male before me like I've never seen one before.

His mocha colored irises and short, ebony shaded hair added to his adorableness that seemed to follow him like a thick fog. I immediately knew he was the one. 

"Michael?" I asked quietly, knowing he would probably jump in fright from being emotionally scarred by my father and Caz. My poor mate.

"Y-yeah?" He looked at me, eyes wide and cheeks red. I swallowed the urge to pull him inside one of the bathrooms and see just how far that blush went, instead smiling sweetly at him.

"Why don't we head out?" I could see the desire in his eyes as soon as I said that, his high cheekbones painted cherry as it traveled to his nose and the tips of his ears.

Michael was certainly an eyeful after being exposed to nothing but white, silver and green. His dark raven hair was short on one side and flipped towards the right, a certain lock of hair falling between his bushy brows. His pale skin was freckled, I expected this, but they were so faint you'd have to get up close to see them like I had.

"Sure," he shrugged casually, but I could see the nerves in his eyes. I grabbed his hand in mine and wished my parents a goodnight, glowering at Caz as he stared at our conjoined hands like they were offending him. I even bid him a goodnight, then nearly yanked Michael out the door as I urged us faster.

I let him lead us to wherever he was staying, which wasn't one of the cabins, it was a place located near the bar; a small apartment complex with big windows in each of the rooms. I smiled eagerly and followed Michael as he laughed at my expression. I pulled my stark white hair up into a bun that left a few curls out to frame my face as he unlocked one of the doors belonging to the second floor.

He gestured to the inside, and I looked at him with an expression that made him freeze, then I grabbed his white shirt stained by coffee and pulled him inside while closing the door behind us. He was clearly affected my me. His lips were parted and his chest heaved a few breaths.

"Erin, I—" I cut him off by grabbing his hand and bringing it up to my lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles while looking directly at him. He swallowed thickly.

I then placed his hand on my collarbone, his pulse beating against my skin, and gently guided it down my body. Michael was still as stone, his chest trembling as his hand was slipping down my curves like a waterfall against its cliffside. 

I wanted him to get to know me, and my body, and I also enjoyed seeing him so undone and flustered. He wanted so badly to do things to me, I could tell, but he seemed to be restraining from doing such things. That's what made me smirk.

I couldn't deny the feelings that arose from his touch, it was like a warm flame against my cold skin, but I could harbor them until I was sure he was on the same level as I.

"Michael," I started, a little breathy, but he cut me off from saying something further by attacking my lips with his. His arms wound around me, caging me against him as he licked my lower lip. 

I smiled into the kiss and desperately grasped at his shirt, begging him to lead us somewhere we could get comfortable. 

I'd never felt such fireworks before. They filled me up and urged my adrenaline levels to peak outrageously. I felt like I was flying.

I then felt the cushion of either a couch or a bed underneath my body, Michael pushing me into the surface as he grinned his hips into mine. Pleasure emanated around us, zapping at my fingertips when he gripped my hipbone a little roughly, and crackled like sparklers.

I was so ready to have him as my own. I'd been waiting so long.

When Arlo ran away, it seemed Evander and I were the only ones who truly understood why. He needed to. He needed his mate. 

I always wanted my parents had; the cute touches, the fiery gazes, the nights when we were wrapped in each other's arms—never letting go. 

And now, heavily making out while a whole 4th of July party went off. It was wild.

Michael grabbed my thighs and hoisted me up again, cradling me against his chest as I started laughing against his lips. He looked at me, breaking the kiss to smile his own bemused one. "What's so funny?" He asked. I giggled and squirmed, his hands on my thighs doing things to me. 

"I'm really ticklish there, so don't—" he then interrupted me by tickling me further. I let out a loud laugh that made my cheeks flush and my chest to gasp for air. 

His hands didn't stop tickling me until I smacked his chest, heaving breaths like they were twenty-pound weights. I leaned against his chest, still a little winded, but I felt at peace with our moment.

"Your brothers seem to hate me," he started, his face still smiling a little as he picked me up from the couch and walked us to a bed in the corner. I hid my face in his neck as I sighed.

"No, they're just unbelievably overprotective with me. I'm the little sister, so that means I must be protected at all costs." I groaned softly, annoyed at my family for being dummies.

"Well, at least they did that for me before I found you." He shrugged, and his words filled me with warmth. I made a super awww face and squished his cheeks in my hands. "You're the cutest." 

He shook his head and leaned his head on a pillow, his eyes lazily taking me in. We sat wrapped in each other's arms for what felt like an enternity before either of us moved or spoke again.

"You ever thought about how weird it is to have a mate?" Michael asked, voice quiet.

I nodded. "Yeah. Werewolves have a person genetically designed to be theirs. In a way, too, it's harder because nobody else is gonna fill that hole in your heart besides them. And you never know if you'll ever actually find your mate."

It sounded depressing in that way.

"That means we're lucky, right?" Michael asked, scooting a little closer to me. I smiled, resting my head on his shoulder.

"The luckiest."

I felt the vibration of his chest as he chuckled softly, the serene sound of it filling my ears. I was incredibly lucky to have found my mate. 

"If you think about it, you're technically a dog." 

I furrowed my brows and smiled confusedly at Michael, who was nodding to himself in agreement. "I mean, technically, but—"

He interrupted me. "But you don't have hair all over you. So you wouldn't appear that way to anyone else. . ." He continued to ramble on for a while.

"Michael," I got out, causing him to stop his rambling and look at me. "You're a dork." 

He smiled dorkily at me, his crooked dimples and grin causing butterflies to explode within my stomach. "I'm your dork." 

I smacked his chest. "Damn right you are." 

We both laughed then, loudly and humor-filled to the brim, no doubt waking up the people in the rooms beside us. I could've sworn I heard people knocking on the floor and yelling, but I was too caught up resuming our make-out session.

Michael's lips came down on mine, his body positioned half over mine so he looked down and into my eyes, hands wandering everywhere.

That was the night I felt whole.