Page 17 of Mated to the Pride

She sighed. “Too long. I meant to get a drink, but I just got… stuck, I guess.”

I tipped my head towards the kitchen. “C’mon. Go have a seat in there. I’ll make you something.”

“I can get myself a glass of water,” she insisted, bumping her elbow into mine as she passed me. Her eyes caught on my bare torso, her playful smile melting into something a little less guarded — a little less measured. Clearly, she liked what she saw; it encouraged me to meet her gaze, and skim my eyes over her body too.

“I’m sure you can,” I said, delayed. “But let me do this for you. You just… rest.”

Whether she was actually convinced or just knew I wouldn’t give up the fight, Jessica relented and made her way to the couch, peering over the stiff back cushions to watch me fill the glass. Even in the low light, her blonde hair still shone, and there was an otherwordly glow to her skin.

No doubt about it. She wasmymate. It didn’t surprise me that the others felt this way too.

“Sorry,” she said, sinking back behind the cushions a little as I caught her looking.

“What are you sorry for?”

I made my way over, and took the seat beside Jessica on the couch as I handed her the water. She seemed almost hesitant — not afraid of me, but not quite comfortable with me either. I shifted away, just a fraction, but she leaned right in to make up the gap.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “You’re just kind of intimidating, I guess.”

She hadn’t taken a drink yet. The condensation formed against the glass, and her eyes remained focused on mine. I tried to soften my smile, leaning back against the back of the couch.

“I don’t try to be.”

“I know,” she said. “It’s just a natural thing. Hale is the same way.”

“Not the others?”

She gave me an awkward smile, hiding behind the glass. She must have been paying attention to all of us. That was a good sign. “Not in the same way, no. Stone feels like… I don’t know. He’s more approachable, somehow. And Preston is just… Preston.”

“He’s quiet, huh? Soft.”

“To a point.”

Jessica angled herself towards me a little more. Did she even know she was doing it? I turned too, elbow perched on the back of the couch to hold up my head. She was only a foot or two away from me.

“Well, I’m sorry for being unapproachable.”

“It’s not that,” she insisted, cheeks blushing up. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

I hummed, watching as she finally remembered the glass of water was for drinking instead of hiding behind, and the way her full lips pressed against the rim as she drank. “I guess I can be a little over-serious, though.”

“You just have a lot of responsibility.”

“We all do, really,” I said, not wanting to take credit away from the rest of my pride. “But yeah, I do. I’m glad you understand. I don’t want to be unfriendly to you.”

“I certainly wouldn’t say that.”

My eyes drifted down to her upturned palm, sliding across the couch cushion towards me. Unthinking, I took it, and felt the warmth of her hand in mine — the spark of attraction that flew between us. I rested my thumb on her wrist, touch light enough to feel the rhythm of her pulse as it lifted and quickened.

“We’re all so lucky to have you here,” I told her. Even though I knew the others would never listen in I still kept my voice low, saving what I said just for her. “I’mlucky to have you here, even if I’m not too good at showing it.”

Jess smiled. For a second, I thought I’d said too much too soon. She kept her silence, just holding my eye contact for a few beats. Then she gave my hand a gentle squeeze and shifted closer beside me, her side pressing into mine.

My arm shifted over her shoulder, natural and fond. The longer we spent curled up together, voices too quiet to disturb the night, the more that contact felt something more than fond. I could feel my whole body pulling towards her, both human and lion. I was a 30-year-old man, and this wasn’t the first time I had been close to a woman like this. Far from it — but there was something different about her. Something in her scent that drew me to her. Something that promised there was more than a physical connection building between us, even in our comfortable silence.

“You’ve been so kind to me,” she said, after a while. The empty glass lay forgotten on the table, light reflecting off the rim — and her eyes. It took me a beat to notice that I was staring, falling forward into the blue.

“You deserve a lot more than kindness.”

---