Chapter 6: Battling For Male Scents

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I could hear my heartbeat pound in my ears as the bedroom door clicks shut behind us. This stranger has a strong grip on me, not to mention an aggressive one that could terrify anyone.

I want so badly to feel safe in my mate's arms— to let myself relax against his warm chest. But I can't. Anxiety only grips me tighter as he carries me towards the bed. The sheets rustle quietly as he sits me down on the edge and begins pulling off my jacket. My heartbeat pulses in my throat as the panic begins setting in.

Once the jacket is off he tosses it onto the floor, almost in a disgusted manner. He pauses for a minute after that, raising his nose as if to sniff the air. I take this opportunity to squirm further onto the bed, and further away from him. I hug myself tightly and pull my knees halfway to my chest. Suddenly the white T-shirt that I'm left with feels much too thin for comfort.

I swallow nervously, watching as he walks over to an attached room and turns the light on, revealing a bathroom. My skin prickles as I watch, the saliva cold in my mouth.

What's he going to do?

In one swift motion he raises his arms over his head, peeling off his shirt. My eyes feel ready to bug out of my head.

I did not sign up for this.

The light behind him illuminates his figure, creating a sublime, muscular silhouette made of rigid lines and defined curves. I can only faintly see the center of his outline, but it's enough to tell that his abdomen is no less apparent.

Striding towards me, his steps are slow and confident. He stops in front of the bed, looking down on me with intent, dark eyes. I lean back as he reaches forward, but I don't lean far enough. His fingers touch under my chin, igniting the area with a tingling feel as he gingerly pushes my jaw closed.

Heat rushes to my cheeks when I realize my mouth had been open. Was it that obvious?

My eyes flick to his uncertainly. What happens now? Because there's no way in hell that I'm letting these clothes leave my body.

"Wash his scent off," he orders, his voice like steel. There's no denying that it's a command, not a polite suggestion.

With that, he lets his gaze linger for a few seconds. Then, he turns and strides out of the room, closing the door behind him with a loud click to disrupt the nerve wracking silence.

He then drops his T-shirt carelessly into my lap. His voice is cold as he instructs me. Begrudging even.

"Then put this on."

I scrunch my face up in both discontent and confusion.

He wants Jasper's smell off of me. That's the only conclusion I can come to, and a likely one considering his earlier disgruntlement with the scent. Being treated as a doll to be dressed up is irritating. But in this case, I don't want Jasper's scent on me either.

Cautiously, I slide off the bed, watching the door like a hawk. I half expect him to burst through it at any minute, spewing more demands.

With shirt clenched tightly in my hand, I pad into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me and making a point to lock it.

Mate or not, my privacy is my own.

The searing water is uncomfortable, drumming against my back, between my shoulder blades. My skin is burning to the point that I think it may peel off.

I've always preferred the cold. And I'd never choose a hot shower over a moderately room temperature or even a slightly cold one. But I need to feel the pain. I need to have the distraction it provides. Almost like it's a pause button.

I fight to keep my mind off the situation at hand, along with the questions that go with it. Did this stranger— my mate whose name is a mystery— take over the pack? How many of my pack members did he kill? Am I still expected to marry Jasper?

I shake my head, pushing away the curiosity. Whatever happens, happens. It's not like I was allowed to control my life before. What's the difference now?

My focus turns back to my reddening body as I turn the water off and step out of the shower. I'm shaky as I put my clothes back on, my muscles lulled into a trance from the heat. Even more warmth pools in my stomach when I take a deep breath of the addictive scent clinging to this ominous stranger's shirt.

I'm not a petite person per se, but it's still oversized to the point where I might be able to get away with not wearing anything else. Nonetheless I slip my jeans back on anyway. There's a certain line drawn in my dignity that I'm not quite ready to cross yet. And walking around pantless with a shirt tail barely covering my ass would require crossing that Line.

When I reenter the bedroom, my lovely and very congenially mate is nowhere to be found.

Is this my window for escape?

As soon as the thought crosses my mind, I ridicule myself for such a ridiculous idea. Running away from everything I know just to be killed on sight as a rogue? I'd rather not. Yet, at least.

I wander out of the bedroom— which has to be the guest one considering its lack of a scent— and down the stairs, right out the front door I was carried through. The stranger doesn't stop me, nor is there even any sign he was here.

Outside, the entire village still looks deserted and desolate. Everything is dark, with only the moon acting as a dim lamp of silver light. The leaves crunches beneath my feet as I wander through the empty streets— which are really just worn out paths weaving between the cabins.

My nostrils flare when a certain hair raising smell reaches my nose. Immediately goosebumps rise over my arms as I slow to a stop in the middle of the village, smelling the air more intently now.

Blood.No... It's more than just blood. It's carnage.

If that smell, combined with the dark, soulless streets, isn't enough to send someone over the edge, then having your every move watched is.

Just as before, when I look up, I find the curious, frightened eyes peering at me through the windows.

A growl escapes my throat.

I'm some kind of spectacle for them, and that fact piques me.

I stare right back, but whoever it is doesn't budge.

If they won't come out, then I guess that means I'll go in.

The heavy door of the pack house shutting behind me is louder than it should be. Usually I would avoid drawing too much attention to myself, but between Jasper's ceremonies and whatever the hell this can be called, I haven't been left much of a choice.

When I turn the corner going into the grand living room, I'm met with about a dozen pairs of those staring eyes, glaring at me through the dark hue and blue shadows of the room.

"You're wearing his shirt?" Cara's irritating, high pitched voice exclaims as she throws her arms out dramatically. She's standing in front of one of the large windows beside the couch. There's no doubt that she was peeking out of it just a moment before.

I'm not sure what she's trying to imply by her comment, but it runs right through me nonetheless.

"You're finally clothed?" I regurgitate her exaggerated shock right back to her. More often than not, she's usually showing more skin than she's covering. And it's far from being subtle, which is why I'm surprised to find her covered from head to toe in winter apparel.

I can sense the room grow impossibly tenser. Everyone silently watching shifts uncomfortably in their seats and standing positions, but some of them I can feel staring holes right through me.

Cara crosses her arms and sneers. "You're calling me a slut but you're the one who just went to bed with a FUCKING ROUGE!"

I freeze.

Rouge

Then it clicks.

"Explain to us," Romano says, leaning past me to lay his palm flat on the tabletop, "What that monstrous bastard wants with you."

Predictions to what Romano and Jasper plan to do? Because certain someones got inflated egos and got their pack taken away :)

Thanks for reading!

Also, a question: Do you guys think I should start giving the chapters names instead of just numbers?