Page 12 of Stuck With His Mate

I am in a good mood now.

After several days of prolonged stress, I gave myself a toe curling orgasm a couple of days ago, and that alone was enough to keep me happy for several days on end. Reminiscing about it still made me throb pleasantly in all the right places.

Unbidden, my mind drifted to Williem. Although he was still effortlessly infuriating and stubborn, he could be charming, kind, and thoughtful even despite our mutual dislike for each other, and this was all before we had kissed so intimately.

I hadn’t gotten a lot of chances to see him, but I still thought about the kiss.

I didn’t know what to think about it exactly. It had been wonderful, but it had ended in such a way that had me feeling like he still despised the fact that I was human. Well, screw him! If he is hung up on that, screw him. I don’t need that in my life.

Now, he was actively avoiding me, I didn’t get to see him as often as I did before and I was getting lonely in this house by myself.

Making up my mind to tell him of my decision to move to the barracks; houses available for the young adult and unmated members of the pack, I had decided to tell him the moment I saw him.

Doing that however was easier said than done when he’s avoiding me.

With his superior hearing, I suspected he could tell when I was awake and he left the house before I even got to his room.

I knew for certain that he listened in, and paid attention to me, because, when I was in the mood for brownies yesterday, I had grumble loudly about it, and this morning I walked into the kitchen to find both a box of brownie mix and all the ingredients I need to make them from scratch.

Baking was a passion of mine, and the nuns who presided over the orphanage I grew up in had encouraged the hobby, making sure I could make any pastry I wanted by the time I was Fifteen.

Sister Janice, the nun in charge of the kitchens, and my favorite person, had made a game of it.

All I had needed to do was get the recipe, and we would make it to the best of our ability. It didn’t matter if it was a pastry from a distant country, or we didn’t know what it should truly taste like.

We would save a sample of our own, and when we went on a grocery run, she would make sure we took a detour, so we could get the same from a fast-food, restaurant, or food-stand.

Today I am bored and want to do something. As a sport enthusiast, spending some of my free time participating in the games being played by the pack-mates appealed to me, but after receiving some wise advice to watch first and play after, I had admitted to myself that I really couldn’t keep up with any of the adult games.

The speeds were impossibly fast.

The constant exercises and running I do daily have put me in pretty good shape, and now I could follow the speedy movements of the Lycans with my eyes; I am assured that that alone is a stupendous feat in itself, but keeping pace with them was still impossible for me.

That had all led to where I was, baking a batch of brownies while dressed in an apron covering the only clothing I had on, a button up shirt I am sure belonged to Liem.

I didn’t care, I had grabbed it out of the laundry bin, and if he wanted to avoid me and wouldn’t talk to me, then he wouldn't talk to me about the shirt either. I could be petty like that.

I move around the kitchen on bare feet, pirouetting around the counter in time to the music. I am having more fun than I had experienced in a good while.

Taking a tray of the brownies out of the oven, I take off my mitts and bend over to rummage through a drawer for a knife to cut off a small piece, eager to taste the result of my baking.

I am so focused on my search, with music taking over my sense of hearing, that I lose myself in it.

“Is that my shirt?”

My lapse in concentration leaves me completely unaware of my surroundings and so Williem’s entry into the kitchen startles me. I straighten, turn around, and snag a rag under the pan by mistake, inadvertently pulling it off the counter.

Without conscious thought, I move back intent on getting away from the burning object. but before I can, a blur comes between me and it.

Williem effortlessly secures a grip on the pan, and a sizzle lets me know that the skin of his palm is burnt.

“Oh Liem, drop it please!” I almost scream, but Williem takes his time instead, first looking it over to make sure none had fallen off the tray before he sets it down on the counter next to me.

I rush to inspect his hands, berating him for not just letting them fall.

“You’re insane, why didn’t you just let them fall?” I question him as I simultaneously bustle him to the sink so I can run some cold water over his burn. He nonchalantly shrugs.

“You spent a lot of time on them, I wouldn’t let all of your hard work go to waste” He tells me, and I can see the seriousness on his face. He really would rather burn his hands than let my brownies go to waste.

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