***
Andrei struggled with himself. Watching her warm to him reminded him of the wildflowers in the forests behind his castle. Enough sunlight and they would bloom- but slowly, and quick to furl back in with the least amount of shade. He worked hard to earn her trust, to not just… push her onto her bed and prove she was his. That would be wrong. He closed his eyes, containing a shudder. Bear wanted her. Bear railed at him to claim their mate. He was certain now, as certain as he could be. In tune with her moods, aware of every shift and sigh of her body. Drawn inexplicably to her…
He swore. His mother would never allow it. If he were smart he would leave now, cut the embryonic bond. Hannah didn’t understand what was happening between them, but he now did. Sometimes the matebonds formed instantly, sometimes they took time. With the Sahakian line, the bonds nearly always took time. Their Bears were not trusting. But once recognized, there would be no going back.
And with Hannah, things were different. He could be himself. He felt like he belonged somewhere for the first time in his life- not because of his bloodline or nationality. But because of himself.
One morning Andrei was lying awake on Hannah’s couch thinking about just these very things, brooding over the amount of time that had passed since he’d gone... AWOL. He heard her bedroom door open, watching through slitted eyes as she stumbled into the kitchen and began making coffee. She was humming softly, and he felt something stir inside him. Such a simple, domestic act, and yet Andrei yearned for this.
“Good morning,” he said.
She turned toward him and smiled, saying, “Good morning, Andrew.”
Andrei cringed inwardly. He hated hearing her call him by that name. He might tell her his real name, but he was afraid she’d be upset with him for giving her a false name, and what if she discovered who he really was?
Rolling off the couch, he tugged his sweatpants higher on his hips where they’d slid precariously low as he stood. He noticed her eyes slip over his bare torso, and he subconsciously flexed for her.
“Here, let me help you,” he said.
At first, she’d resisted his help. He guessed it was because she was an independent woman, and she wasn’t accustomed to having help. But as the days went on, he was making more and more progress.
He leaned against her as he reached above her head to retrieve the coffee filters from the cabinet. He could feel the soft plumpness of her bottom pressing against him, and his body responded with a rapid swell in his pants. Hannah squirmed against him, turning her body to face him. Her cheeks were lightly flushed, full mouth a natural rose brown.
“Andrew… um…”
A rumble through his chest, reacting to the rapid beat of her heart. Inhaling, he drew the scent of her desire into his lungs. The scent of flustered woman, warm and tousled from bed. Soft in his arms. His. Andrei’s arms tightened as his head dipped, nose burying in her neck, the place right over her collar bone. His fangs itched for release, the way his cock itched for release. Bite her, mark her, make her his. Mornings were hell. Not that his body didn’t always want her anyway, but in the morning the pump was especially... primed.
“I’m fighting this,” he said into her neck, voice rough. “I'm trying to go slow. This whole situation is like a dream, a moment outside of time. I’m fighting.”
She stilled, then her chest rose and fell with one breath. “Don’t,” she said. “Don’t fight anymore.”
Andrei froze. Raising his head, pale eyes clashed with liquid dark. What he saw in her face… their lips collided in an instant. Andrei wasn’t even certain whether he’d initiated the kiss. All he knew was her hands were sliding along the ridges of his biceps, doing little to quell the passion that raged inside him. He gripped the edge of the kitchen counter, willing himself to resist the desperate desire to explore her body. He pressed against her, hard length pulsing against her body.
Hannah gasped and pulled away from him. She ducked under his arm and dashed into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
“Damn,” he muttered.
***
Okay. That was a bad idea.
Hannah leaned against her door, trying to catch her breath. She snorted. She felt like the bravest girl in the world. For a moment she’d gone from wanting just a kiss to wanting… the whole shebang. And with a ferocity that had her nail digging into his biceps before her rational mind realized what she was doing.
She hadn’t meant for the kiss to happen, but as she’d felt the heat of his body pressing against hers, and felt his hot breath on her neck, she’d lost all thoughts of survival. Because that what it was. When he left, he would take her heart with him. Already she found it hard to focus on dance, sometimes hard to even eat, thinking of when he would go. Already she had to clench words behind her teeth, keep from begging him to stay. This couldn't go on forever. What had he called it? A moment outside of time? Maybe they were both fooling themselves. She wished she knew why he was with her. If it was just sex, just a passing amusement… why go to all the trouble?
She knew he had money. He let things slip in conversation when he wasn’t carefully picking through his words. She knew he was someone important. The way he walked, his careless disregard of money- as if nothing was too expensive. He bought her a bottle of twenty dollar shampoo when he realized what scent she liked. Twenty dollar shampoo, and the conditioner, too.
Just a few weeks earlier, she’d been on track to have the career of her dreams. She hadn’t needed a man, or even really wanted one. Oh, sure, she’d wondered what it would be like to kiss a man, to feel his touch… but those thoughts were fleeting and quickly pushed into the deepest recesses of her heart.
Now, they were front and center. These feelings were raw and deep, and they were causing her heart to pound against her ribcage. Her stomach lurched, and the world began to sway. She stumbled backward and flopped onto her bed, rolling over and burying her face in her pillow, tears pricking.
Five minutes, she thought. I’ll allow myself five minutes, and then I’m getting up and going about my day as if nothing happened.
Because nothing could happen. He might want her, might even like her- a lot. But that didn’t mean he was willing to make a commitment. And a commitment for marriage was the only relationship she would accept- ever. So for five minutes, she allowed herself to sorrow for what might have been. Rail against her own ingrained values that held her back from just letting loose and enjoying something other women took so for granted. And once that time had passed, she wiped her eyes and headed to the bathroom to wash her face.
Still sniffling, she found him making breakfast. He’d learned how much she loved strawberries, and he’d made fresh pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
He didn’t sound upset. His back was to her. Hannah studied his movements. She was a dancer- she saw no tension. She relaxed. “I’m fine. I’m sorry.”
He turned. Hannah sucked in a breath. Glowing, half- lidded eyes met hers. She’d been way wrong. All the tension was on his face.
“Your eyes are glowing,” she said, each word distinct. “Why are your eyes glowing?”
There was only one reason she could think of- and she didn’t want to think of it. She’d seen hints before, but he’d always managed to veil himself so she might think she was imagining things. But now he didn’t bother. He stared at her full in the face with eyes that couldn’t in any way belong to a human man. Silently daring her to back away, or to deny him.
“Don’t worry about it, Hannah,” he replied, voice gentle. Lashes lowered and the something… moved… under the bones of his face, making him look savage. Dangerous.
Predatory.
But the he lifted his lashes again, and his eyes were normal.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he continued, setting out plates. “I told you I would wait.”
And that was the problem. Wait for what? Sex? An incredible night or
two of sex and then he would leave? That wasn’t anything to wait for.
She sat down at the place he’d set for her with her favorite coffee cup and he filled it with fresh coffee and passed her the sugar bowl. Before her, he set a place of pancakes heaped with fresh macerated strawberries and whipped cream. He got himself a massive portion and sat next to her.
“Where are you from?” she asked, stuffing a bite of the fruity pancakes into her mouth. What are you from?
He didn’t answer right away, watching her thoughtfully. “I travel often.” The unspoken question received an unspoken response. What do you think I’m from?
“That’s- that’s nice. And… do you have family?” Was she allowed to ask these questions? What were the rules? And weren’t the rules a little obsolete by now, considering they’d been living together? They’d talked about art, about life, about music. Places around the world, the people they watched walking by when they just took walks together. Talked so much, but never about their personal lives.
“Yes, I have family.” He smiled. “Not a mate.”
He’d said mate, not wife. “I have to run soon,” Hannah said. “Class starts in less than an hour.”
“Would you like me to escort you?”
“No.”
“Leave it,” he said as she attempted to pick up her plate.
She set it back on the table and said, “Thank you.”
As she passed him to go get ready for class, her hand brushed along his shoulder, and she nearly stumbled at the surge of electricity that pulsed through her.
This is getting dangerous, she thought. If I don’t ask him to leave, I’m going to make a terrible mistake.
She turned back, steeling herself against the pain. “I can’t sleep with you, Andrew. I'm not- I can’t do it.” Her hands clenched, jaw clenched. “I think… if you stay any longer we’ll do something I would regret.”
He stared at her, face impassive.
“Please,” she whispered, looking away. “I think I could fall in love with you, and that’s not what you want, is it?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
As Hannah went to get ready for school, Andrei finished the rest of his pancakes and cleared the table. While she was dressing, he wolfed down another helping of pancakes, and prepared batter for more. Andrei couldn’t risk letting her see how much food he ate. She would realize that something was different about him, and that would lead to questions he wasn’t prepared to answer- not yet.
He felt the lingering warmth of her touch on his shoulder, radiating with crackling energy. It surged through him like the rhythmic thrum of his pulse. He reached over to brush his own fingers across the spot on his bare shoulder where she’d so briefly touched it.
Her bedroom door opened, and he watched as she marched toward the door, her eyes glued to the carpet two feet in front of her. She had her backpack slung over her shoulder, helping to hide her face as she passed him.
“Hannah?”
“Bye, Andrew. I’ll see you this afternoon.”
The door closed behind her, leaving Andrei alone with his thoughts.
For the first time, he hated her apartment. Bear raged at him to get their mate, drag her back. If she’d been one of his people, this never would have gone on as long as it had. He would have claimed her, marked her as his. She’d be his mate before his people and already full with his Heir. But she wasn’t a Bear. She was human, and sheltered, and too sweet for him to make decisions for her, with callous disregard of her feelings. If he pressed his own needs- and he could press, seduce her into forgetting her scruples- that would make him little better than a rapist.
And there wasn't a single wall in this apartment his fist wouldn’t shatter into little pieces were he to indulge the impulse.
Perhaps it was better this way. What did she know about Bears, much less about the life of a royal? To bring her to Casakraine, to become Princess and eventually Queen… he laughed. She wanted to dance. It wouldn't be fair. The honorable thing would be to walk away like she’d asked. Walk away and leave her heart and body intact. Allow her to find a nice, normal human man to settle down with. Have babies, worry about… what did middle class couples worry about? He hadn’t marked her, it was possible for her to find someone else. Suffering would subside after the first few days, since they’d never sealed the bond.
Would she go hungry? Would her husband treat her well? Would she have to worry about a decent place to live?
He didn’t want her to worry about anything, ever. Honor demanded he give her space and time to think. Walk away and approach her later with the truth, and let her decide. Andrei ate his pancakes, cleaned up the kitchen and took out his laptop. He had work to do, compounded by his present self-initiated furlough, and no time to indulge himself in more fruitless mental gnashing.
Work to do, and a decision to make.
***
He was gone when she came home. Numb, she checked the bathroom, the closet. Empty of his belongings. She went into the kitchenette to make a sandwich- she had to eat, even if she wasn’t hungry. Saw the note on the fridge. He’d left a casserole in the oven.
Hannah sat down, hard, almost missing the chair. Wouldn’t that be great, banging her head on the table and needing stitches she couldn’t afford?
He’d left her a casserole.
Tears blurred her eyes. How could he think she would eat? Was it so easy for him to leave? She’d hoped he would stay, would speak, say something that indicated he wanted more than just a physical relationship. Wanted something she could give him and still keep her values. But he’d just left. And something inside her twisted, withered. A glowing thread of connection between them flickering, going dim. And as it died, something in her began to flicker and dim as well.
She pillowed her head on her arms and cried.
***
Two days dragged by. Hannah made herself go to classes. Made herself eat, even though food left her nauseous. Her whole body trembled, her heart bitter ashes in her chest. She thought about going to a classmate’s place and watching television. Anything to fill the hole, the emptiness. The loneliness. Andrew had managed to wedge his way into her life, show her possibilities of pleasure and connection outside of dance. And now she had to go back to the way it was before.
A knock on the door. She jerked, sending a glass of water tumbling. Hannah cussed, the expletive falling from her lips with a new ease. A bad habit she’d picked up from Andrew. He’d cuss over his pans when he thought she wasn’t paying attention. The knock again and she hurried to the door, peering out of the peephole. And stilled.
“I know you’re there, Hannah,” Andrew said. “I can hear you breathing.” He paused. “You know I can hear you. Can we talk?”
She opened the door. They stared at each other. Hannah didn’t know who moved first, only that his beautiful eyes flared, brightened until they were brilliant summer sky jewels, and his arms were around her, face buried in her neck.
“I tried to stay away,” he said, voice tight. “But why should I? You’re mine.” Strong fingers dug into her curls at the nape, pulling her head back. “Do you understand? Mine, Hannah. My mate. I wanted to spare you the life I lead- I know it’s not what you want, but I don’t care. I want you with me.”
Her heart stopped a split second, then sped up. He’d called her mate.
“You mean… you want a real relationship? You want marriage?”
He sighed. “Sweet, what I want is so much more permanent than marriage. You will never be able to leave me. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t. You would wither and become ill and…” he stopped, jaw clenching. Face pale, skin taut over sharp bones as the something feral moved under the surface again. “I’m selfish to do it to you. You’re human. You have no idea…”
“I want to be with you,” she said. Placing a hand flat on his chest, certainty welled in her mind, in her heart. “I want to be your… mate.” She bit her lip. “As long as that means there
’s a ring and a certificate, too.”
Andrew laughed. A strained laugh. “You can have any ring you want and a certificate in every country in which I have influence. Starting with this one.”
She leaned into him. “Kiss me.” Her hands gripped the cloth at his back, nails digging into skin and muscle. She’d never been so close to a man before.
“Mine,” he growled, backing her into the apartment and shutting the door. And captured her lips.
His tongue licked along the curve of her lips, and another surge of heat raced between her legs. She gasped, lips parted, allowing his tongue to explore her mouth. This sensation unlike anything she’d ever felt. She wanted more.
His hands cupped her face, drawing her more deeply into this kiss. He was tender, delicate. Raw strength flexed underneath her touch, yet he was as gentle as a feather tickling her nose.
“Andrew…”
“I know.” He said the words through gritted teeth, then swore, grabbing her hand. “Let’s go out. Somewhere… with no bed. And lots of people. We can make plans.”
“Touch me,” she whispered.
“What?”
Hannah would have laughed from the half frustrated, half aggrieved expression on his face. She took his hands and placed them over her breasts. Eyes widening slightly, he paused for a moment as if waiting for her to change her mind. When she didn’t, he began to knead the soft flesh, pinching her stiffening nipples through the fabric of her bra and shirt as he kissed her again.
Her parents would be disappointed. But she trusted Andrew, and this was her life. Her love. Her body to give. Hannah knew what she wanted. She’d never wanted anything more in her life. She’d thought her career as a dancer would be the most fulfilling experience of her life, but this… whatever this was… made her realize how wrong she had been.
Hannah took one hand and pushed it lower. He pushed it between her legs, and the friction against her jeans pulled a moan from between her lips. His head dipped to kiss the tender flesh of her neck, and she tangled her fingers in his hair, tilting her head back to allow him easier access.
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