Page 29 of The Beast's Betrayed Mate
“Oh, yeah?” he asked, a sudden glint in his eyes and before she knew it the toe of his sneaker was connecting with the toe of her boot. “How good?”
She felt heat pool into her stomach at that small invitation, but then she shook her head at him. She wasn’t going to do this with him, of all people. It had been her wanting some sort of closure on years of self-doubt. That was all.
No more castles in the sky for her.
She moved her foot, digging into her pancakes, which smelled delicious.
“Where are we going to get wigs?” she pondered.
“I might know someone,” he admitted, though the regretful look on his face made her feel soft trepidation, as she suspected who he might have in mind.
Chapter 9 - Peter
He could hardly believe that, less than an hour ago, she had been moaning against the wall of his bathroom. It was more mind-blowing to him than the soft growl of appreciation from his wolf whenever he thought of it. He tried not to think about it, especially after he tried to see if she’d be interested in more canoodling, and she so clearly rebuffed him.
She’d meant it when she said it was just a one-night thing.
And hadn’t he meant it when he agreed?
But, to that fact, wasn’t the night still technically going?
Get your head in the game, he told himself, holding the elevator door to make sure she could step through it unencumbered. Like a gentleman would.
The way he hadn’t been a gentleman in college.
Was this all about showing her that the side of him she’d seen back then had been a smokescreen? That he had been protecting himself from rejection? But wasn’t she also right in calling him out on such cowardice, hiding behind him thinking it was what was right for her? He hadn’t considered her in the moment. He had only considered himself.
It was getting clearer to him by the minute how much he had changed himself after that day in the cafeteria. He had put a lid on his own stupid tendency to push everyone away and had become placid when it came to relationships. He had focused on work, not thinking he could be much good to anyone, and it had all been because of her.
Because he had wanted to say yes, we should have dinner. He had wanted to dress up and take her someplace nice and hold doors open for her.
But he hadn’t trusted that inclination so instead he had shoved her away as hard as he possibly could to make certain she didn’t come back for a second try.
He had been noticing her and every time it had been as though she had some sort of supernatural gift for noticing him noticing her. So, he’d tried to make it a habit to ignore her. Whenever her blue eyes shone down the hallway, he would raise his gaze to a point above her head. Whenever he heard her laughter in any of the spaces that they shared he would turn on his heel and walk in the opposite direction. And he had made certain they were never teamed up as lab partners.
“It’s funny that we never worked more closely together at school,” he remarked, unsure of why he felt a need to comment on it. “Since we’re both analysts and all.”
“Hmh,” she hummed. “Then again, I heard that you made a point to only team up with men to avoid any disagreements among the women. I thought that was just nasty gossip, that you teamed up with men because women made you nervous… But then I realized the gossip was more likely true.
He raised his eyebrows as the elevator doors dinged. “Hey, I teamed up with men because they were my mates,” he said. “It wasn’t a gender thing or a sex thing, alright? And it definitely wasn’t a jealousy thing.”
“So, you never made a point of avoiding me in class?” she asked.
Admit it, a voice said, but he shook his head.
“Of course not,” he lied.
She didn’t catch it, but he also wasn’t entirely sure that she believed he was telling her the whole truth. There was a tension between them now, talking of those days, that hadn’t been there before. It seemed their attempt at letting it all go had made it all come roaring right back at them.
***
He knocked on Myrtle’s door.
“She’s not asleep,” he said. “She stays up to watch the nighttime soaps.”
The door opened, and he smiled at his neighbor.
“Myrtle,” he said. “The wig queen of Colorado Street. Might we ask a favor?”
