Page 25 of The Silent Mate

“I accept your offer,” she cooed before busying herself with writing her next questions.

Things continued like this for well over an hour. I learned her favorite foods for each meal of the day—omelette, chicken salad sandwich, and macaroni and cheese, respectively—and how she came to work as a healer in her father’s pack. She asked me about my favorite book—a historical recounting of the middle ages that shaped Europe—and whether I was a night owl or an early bird.

I noticed Aria kept her questions surface-level, never probing too deeply into my past or my internal longings, and I was grateful to her for it. In truth, a part of mewantedto offer her a deeper slice of my life. Wanted to open a window to my soul for her eyes only. But what if she hated what she saw? What if she glimpsed the realest, rawest truths of my history and wanted no part of it.

More importantly, how could I blame her?

When both of our plates were empty and our glasses of water drained, Aria’s mouth cracked open in a dainty yawn, even as she clutched our most recent correspondence to her chest. She needed sleep.

My gaze softened. I held one hand out as a silent request for the notepad, even though it wasn’t my turn. She didn’t protest as she handed it to me, blinking the exhaustion from her eyes.

Thank you for dinner. And for the conversation.

You go to bed. I’ll clean up.

Aria’s brows pulled together as she read my message. When she finished, she set the notepad aside and shook her head, tucking a strand of honey blonde behind her ear. “I’ll clean up in the morning. Will you… I mean, would you like to come to bed with me?”

My heartbeat accelerated. Memories of last night flooded my head, morphing into flashes of our heated encounter in the kitchen this morning. My hips rocking against the seam of her jeans, racketing up the pressure at the base of my spine. My canines longing to sink into the sensitive skin at the base of her neck at the same moment my cock pushed through her intact barrier. Then, her fingers accidentally brushing against the distorted flesh that sliced me from ear to ear. The panic. The instinct to fight.

As if she could read the conflicting emotions on my face, Aria continued. “We don’t have to touch. I—Iwon’t touch you, I mean.” Color rose on her cheeks, and when she spoke again, her voice was quieter. Shy. “I just want you beside me.”

Her words calmed the storm in my mind. Soothed the doubt roiling through my veins. I wanted that, too. More than anything.

Slowly, I dipped my chin and stood from the table, extending a hand for Aria to take. She grasped it without hesitation, without recoiling at my scars or the invisible blood staining my hands. And, when she met my gaze before pulling me into the bedroom, I had the distinct feeling that she saw me.

She saw me—all the ugly, painful parts that marked me a monster—and it didn’t scare her.

11

ARIA

It felt like an elastic band connected my body—mysoul—to Malik.

I sensed it when he left today, pulling tighter and tighter the more distance he put between us. At the time, I thought my ribcage might break apart and my chest cavity might shatter if we failed to reunite. Likewise, I felt it when he decided to come home. That invisible chord connecting our bodies slackened, easing the pain and longing deep at the center of my being.

And I felt itnow,thrumming like it held a mind of its own and delighted in his nearness as he followed me into the bedroom.

I’d explored the cottage in the hours of Malik’s absence, relying on the rooms and items to learn more about the male. I hadn’t learned much, except that he was obscenely tidy, boasted an impressive library of books, andclearlydidn’t spend much time in his kitchen. No photos of friends or family decorated thewalls or shelves in any room, though his living room wall held a single painting of a flock of gulls soaring above a rocky beach. I wondered if he chose it for the beach or the birds, as if the answer might afford me some glimpse into his soul.

That was when I came up with the idea of our little ‘passing notes’ game. I needed to know more about Malik but wanted to do it onhisterms. Though my hand ached from writing so much, it went even better than expected.

It wentsowell that, now, Malik willingly trailed after me into his bedroom.

As soon as we crossed the threshold, he dropped my hand and closed the door, the softclickof the wooden frame sounding behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and, though my heart fluttered like a hummingbird’s wings in my chest, offered him a smile.

“Your house is beautiful,” I murmured, rubbing at my exposed arms. Suddenly, goosebumps peppered my skin. “I hope you don’t mind that I explored it while you were gone...”

Malik didn’t smile, but he didn’t frown either. He shook his head, hovering just inside of the doors he’d just shut.

My towering mate regarded me like I was some vexing, wild creature that he didn’t quite know what to do with, and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from chuckling at the irony of it. This male, who was quite possibly the strongest werewolf I’d ever seen, looked uponmewith apprehension in his gaze.

“Do you want to get ready for bed first?” I ventured, gesturing toward the bathroom. I figured he should get to use it first. He owned the house, after all.

Even so, Malik jerked his headno. His broad shoulders leaned back against the door, pressing into the wood to put even more space between our bodies. My presence in his bedroom seemed to put him on edge.

Realizing he probably wouldn’t move until I gave him some space, I cleared my throat and conjured my gentlest smile. “Okay, I’ll go first.”

I disappeared into the bathroom and made quick work of brushing my teeth with one of the unopened toothbrushes I found in a drawer, then washed my face and shimmied out of my jeans. Malik’s sagging t-shirt followed before I shed the panties and bra I’d been wearing for the last two days.

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