Luna Queen

6.5 - Hospitals

6.5 - Hospitals

Sativa
Oh.

"Do you think properly?" His harsh words meeting my ears as I sighed in apt relief.

He wasn't married.

"I'm sorry," I croak, the tears stinging my eyes again. I didn't know whether it was from relief, that my mate wasn't married, or the fact that I couldn't stand the way he looked at me. In barely contorted, fury. I never ceased to anger him, and for a while, it was amusing. But now, it was only punishing.

For God's sake, why couldn't he just love me like normal mates do? Why the hell did he have to makes things so damn complicated - hard.

"Save it for someone who cares," he spat, flicking the lighter on and off. I could see that the flame flickered against the skin of his palm, but he wasn't responsive. "I don't give a shit about your hollowing apologies, Carter."

"I didn't know." I barely defended myself. "She had said that her last name was Ivanovich - and, I immediately thought that..."

I trail off, bringing my legs underneath my chin, I choke on the breath that was forcing to be set free.

"Don't think without wisdom." It sounded almost as if he is commanding me.

"I am sorry," I whisper, my throat scratchy and sore. I was hurting so bad, I just wanted to sleep. "I had not thought about it properly."

"I told you to save that shit for someone who cared," he snapped, his cold eyes looking me over. "I am not that person, Carter. Stop it."

I let the tears slip. Drop after drop, promising myself that it would be better if I did.

"Cry," Romanov chuckled with a slight humor. "You have every reason to, you make others believe that you are strong - but don't forget that without me, you are nothing; bloody useless."

I heaved a breath, but I didn't respond, "And, you're bastard," I spit, raising my head to meet his. "You are supposed to love me like a mate does. Why can't you just reject me, then?" I ask.

He swore, "Respect."

"Just reject me - it's better than living like this."

"I could never reject you," he strides up to me in a nanosecond. His rough hands cupping my cheeks. "Don't even think like that."

Bipolar. When I was four, my father had been diagnosed with an illness called, Bipolar Disorder. I am sure it was to the same likeness in what Alpha Ivanovich was displaying.

I couldn't say anything. The warmth that the slight contact his hands gave me, made me feel like I was high on a drug that could only be prescribed by Romanov. I let out a sigh, I close my eyes as his lips flutter against my forehead.

We stay there, unmoving, just tanning in the revelation of each other. I almost pull away as his hand ventures lower down my back. I sit up, clinging unto his shoulders as he flips us over, so that I am straddling him. I bite down on my lower lip, I can see that his eyes are flashing from black, to green, then to blue. I am aware that my boxer shorts hitch up my thigh as his large hands roam them. I arch my back as his lips connect with my neck, sending me into a blaze; I was scorching hot - a blazing fire.

I moan as he bites down on the sweet spot on my neck, my hands roaming his large shoulders. I pressed my body into his, and I could feel his excitement growing as his hands wrapped tighter around my waist. I look up in his eyes as he snarls coldly, his lips meeting mine in a rough and frenzy haze. I moan at the taste of him, minty, woodsy and delicious. He dominated the kiss, but I didn't mind. I curled my hands in this thick, soft dark hair, tugging and pulling on it as his mouth devoured mine. I knew that he liked it, the small growls and groans that emanated from his soft lips. I was in heaven, but I was pulled out before I got to fully enjoy it.