My Lycan Mate of Suicide Forest

August felt her stomach trilling again under the intensity of Graeme's eyes. There was a universe waiting for her there to be explored, and she found herself already drawn in and lost to it. He stepped closer to her, bringing his body heat to wrap around her protectively. It was comforting and intoxicating at the same time. He seemed to extend himself somehow and fill the space he was in. The whole room vibrated with his energy, and August felt it inside of her as if she was simply an extension of his and of the treehouse and of this unfamiliar place in the forest. It was as if she was suspended here in this illusion by his willpower alone.

Graeme raised a hand to touch her face, and August felt her eyes flutter closed as her breath caught in her throat. But he stopped short of her cheek, pulling his hand back to gauge what this reaction of hers meant. Was this going to be okay?

He felt that with August he had found himself on the edge of a cliff, looking down at the enticing water below now for so long and sure of the fall, but she had been thrown into this without any choice. He was internally waiting for the enormity of all of this to hit her where she would panic.

He swallowed hard wondering about it when she met his gaze again. There was a shimmering question in her eyes, but he didn't see any fear there. His hand caressed her cheek finally, the contact drawing him closer to her.

August's mind went blank, and she closed her eyes again, just breathing him in. He smelled sweet—warm and spicy somehow. Comforting. 'Like apple cider,' she thought vaguely. 'Like home in front of a fireplace.' Flames were gliding along the surface of her skin where his hand was on her face, and she turned into it instinctively. None of this made sense, but being here with him somehow felt right.

Graeme lifted her onto the table, positioning himself between her legs as his mouth finally found hers, kissing her soft lips gently. His hands curled into fists as he held himself back, squinting against the desire that took no time in spreading through every inch of him. 'Mine,' his mind was silently repeating. 'All mine. Finally.'

Internally, Graeme was gauging the circumference of the room and the treehouse—trying to sense if anyone was nearby. Suddenly the whole area in which she moved lit up—a perimeter that needed to be protected. And her at its center.

August parted her lips to let him in deeper, exploring the warmth of his mouth. Of his tongue against hers. She felt the softness of his hair fall against her face, and she reached up to grab a handful of it, pulling him reassuringly into her, letting his intoxicating presence engulf her.

To Graeme's surprise, his hands started trembling as just the sensation of kissing her filled him. He wanted more. He wanted to feel all of her against him—to completely give himself over to her and take her as his own. It was the only thing that made sense at this moment—feeling the softness and warmth of her against him.

How could he have never wanted this? To find his mate. To find August. The idea that it had been her all along was hard to comprehend. If only he had known, he would have spent less time running. In less than a month, she had become his whole world. His every waking thought.

August pulled away and looked up at him worriedly, grabbing his hands into hers. "Are you okay?" she asked, feeling him trembling. With him, the whole world seemed to quake. She felt it in her core.

Graeme breathed a laugh and nodded. "Yeah," he whispered against her lips. "I don't want to hurt you," he said, "you just woke up. You finally woke up. You're here with me. I—I can't believe it." 'I have to make you safe now—right now, in this moment,' the frantic thoughts rushed him, and he pushed them back. He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, reaching up to cup her head with his hands. Then he stepped back, lowering her off the table.

And she instantly missed him—like something essential had been taken. Was she really making him tremble? The thought of it had her awestruck. She had never had that effect on anyone she had kissed in the past. Perhaps there really was something to this mate thing. His concern for her well-being was sweet, but wasn't she safe with him? Hadn't he saved her so many times now?

"I'm not made of… of glass," she said, her eyebrows pinching together.

He looked at her silently, amusement spreading over his face. "That's not what I meant." Was she upset that he had stopped kissing her?

"Then what do you mean?"

"You've been out for so long. You went through some traumatic stuff. I…"

"And apparently all I needed was you," she interrupted. She cursed herself inwardly for how that sounded, but did he not even trust her to, to… kiss him? A thought suddenly occurred to her. "Are you a virgin?" she blurted out.

"What?" he sputtered a laugh and raised his eyebrows in surprise. If he had been drinking something at that moment, he would have spit it out. "Why would you think that? Why does that… matter?"

She shrugged, embarrassed of the question that slipped out and the answer it demanded that could only make her question her own significance. Of course he wasn't a virgin. Why would he be? She picked the towel up off the table before leaving the room to hang it outside, and as Graeme watched, the whole gravity of the universe seemed to leave with her.

"Are you?" he called after her.

"Of course not," she replied sarcastically, unsure as to why anger laced her words.

He turned around and sat on the table, watching the doorway where she disappeared. "Fuck," he mumbled under his breath, pushing back the sudden jealousy that unfurled in his chest. Here he had been worried that he was going to scare or hurt her.

The whirring of a blow dryer started a few rooms away. Graeme smoothed back his hair and returned to the counter where he had left the folded paper.. He glanced at it again before shoving it roughly in a drawer and walking out to the pool.