Rille (Tribes, Book 2)

Chapter 13

Preston had never smiled like an idiot before, but he found himself doing so now.

It was too fun, to tease Brielle. To watch her malfunction. To toy with her just to get a reaction out of her. She had fire and spunk, even though she used it to hide all the hurt inside.

Right now, Preston restrained himself because they hadn't signed the mating papers and because Brielle wasn't ready. One day, Preston wouldn't be able to hold himself back anymore. Teasing her was only getting more interesting, and even without the Blood Mark he could feel their connection growing.

Was this what a True Mate was supposed to be like?

If so, Tribe Rille was missing out and they had no clue about it.

If this was a True Mate, Preston could burn the world if it meant that she would be safe. Thankfully, Brielle wouldn't take kindly to such behavior. Preston found his inner wolf listening to her logic on occasion.

Except for those moments when man and beast wanted to eat her alive.

You have to follow her pace, Preston reminded himself. Only then would Brielle open up to him fully.

Judging by how things had gone with the ex, she would need time and care to heal her wounds. Preston's claws itched to dig their way into Lou's skin, as punishment for all he had done to hurt Brielle. But he wouldn't. Because neither he nor Brielle would see Lou ever again.

Since he could do nothing about her terrible ex-boyfriend at the moment, Preston closed his eyes and listened to Brielle putter about the apartment.

She still hobbled when she walked, favoring her injured side. Preston made a note to find a better medicine for that wound.

Her journey through the living area went smoothly, though she opened and closed every cabinet and drawer within the room. That was to be expected. Brielle seemed to be looking for signs of Preston's weakness, or perhaps a bad habit.

She wouldn't find anything.

Brielle must have come to the same conclusion, because her lopsided gait padded further away. The guest room, then. That was clean as a whistle.

Preston smiled to himself as he listened to her rummage through those drawers too. His shower had taken long enough. Brielle should have seen all she needed to see to assure her that the apartment was safe.

With a slam of his palm against the faucet, Preston shut off the shower. In her condition, with all the stress that she had gone through, Brielle must be hungry again. Feeding her was an easy step toward winning her trust and affections. Preston had recently realized he sought both.

By the time Preston had toweled off and slipped into a pair of sweatpants, Brielle had maneuvered her way back into his bedroom. The bottom drawer of the nightstand slid open, then closed.

A grin worked its way onto Preston's face, as he knew what she had found there. He would be met with either confusion or lividity, and Preston didn't know which he looked forward to more.

Slinging the towel around his neck and letting it hang over his bare chest, Preston opened the bathroom door and stepped back into the bedroom.

Brielle perched on the bed, facing him, her legs crossed in the same position as her arms. "I have two questions."

"Only two?" Preston leaned a shoulder against the door frame. "Go on."

"Number one. You have a perfectly good guest room on the other side of this place, so why did I wake up in your room?"

"My room is more comfortable." Preston leaned his head against the doorframe, as well, waiting for Brielle's outburst when he continued, "and you're my mate. My woman. Why would you sleep anywhere but in my bed?"

"Wow, there's a lot to unpack there. But we'll get to that later. Number two!" Brielle unfolded her arms to snatch a handwritten leather journal from the bed beside her. "What in the blue blazes is this and why are you hiding it?"

"I think the title says it all. Didn't you take a look?" Preston jutted his chin toward the journal, encouraging Brielle to look closer.

Brielle rolled her eyes. "You said anything you had to hide was in the bottom nightstand drawer. Why are you hiding..." she scanned the first page, reading the title aloud, "...The Mating Bond and All Its Inner Workings?"

Preston pushed off from the door-frame. "It wasn't exactly hidden."

"Did you write this yourself?" Brielle asked as she flipped through the pages.

"I thought you might be curious to know more about our bond."

"What bond? I'm not your mate."

"You bear my mark."

"So what? It wasn't voluntary. Thus, I'm not your mate."

"Say it again," Preston growled, knowing the strength of his own flashing eyes and his anger ricocheting around the room.

Brielle could have chosen any words to target him, could have thrown any weaponized insults toward him, but she had to pick that one. Preston's inner wolf didn't take kindly to her denial of the facts, and the man wasn't far behind.

Brielle didn't seem to care that he was losing control. She leaned forward, enunciating each word as it flew from her lips. "I'm... not... your... mate."

Preston had moved before he had time to think about his actions. Suddenly, Brielle was beneath him on the bed, one of his knees propped beside her hip and the opposite hand braced by her shoulder. He lifted his free hand to trace a finger along her jaw, down her neck, beside her collarbone.

"You're not my mate?" Preston's fingers clenched in Brielle's shirt collar and gave a tug, exposing the bruised mark against her shoulder and the base of her neck. "This is my mark. My claim on you. Like it or not, you are my mate."

Brielle's eyes, which always held sparks of fire, this time held a pinprick of fear. Her hands lifted, landing on Preston's bare chest to push him away. But he would not be moved.

Preston wrapped his fingers around her cheek and neck, cradling her head in his hold. "I will not hurt you, Brielle. But don't test my bottom line again."

Brielle nodded, so vehemently that her head might have rattled.

Preston, exhibiting every ounce of control that he had been taught to have, released her and stood to his feet. "I'll make you something to eat."

And then he fled. Because if he stayed much longer, something he never intended to happen was going to take place. Preston had trouble controlling himself around Brielle, and that was going to be an issue going forward. He could sense it.

As surely as he could sense Brielle's conflicted emotions.

He had clearly made a mistake, but he couldn't tolerate her denial of his claim on her. That was how wolves worked. She couldn't just ignore it because it hadn't been her idea.

Preston managed not to slam the bedroom door on his way out, but his frustration was going to need release sooner rather than later. Staying alone with his mate, in a locked apartment, would not go well if he didn't release a little bit of steam. After he made her a meal, he would find a way to sneak out for a while.

That was the only option left.  

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