The Alpha's Breeder ✔️ COMPLETE

Sixteen : Mine To Protect

Eros picked up another set of documents on the night stand next to his right hand side and glanced in my direction. 

I'm sure he thinks I'm out of my mind.

Even I think that I'm kind of loony at this point.

From the top of my vision, I could see his eyebrow arch high in question at my slightly--scratch that--completely weird movements.

My cheeks started to heat up in embarrassment but I managed to swallow that down before I could do anything stupid. 

I shrugged down the strong urge to shiver under his rather animalistic perusal of my body from head to bared legs. The room felt strangely cold and hot at the same time, if that is even possible.

Perhaps cold from the slight breeze in the air and hot from Eros' unshakable staring. 

Doesn't he feel the need to blink?

I'm tired just from watching him watch me.

I know for sure that there's no way I can deal with Eros right now if he decides to become some pheromone induced animal and attack me. 

"Come to bed," he said, lifting the sheets on the opposite side invitingly.

I contemplated my fate if I did crawl into his bed.

Would I be safe?

Because I can't figure out if he would be a gentleman and keep his hands to himself or jump me.

Perhaps I should give him the benefit of a doubt.

He hasn't done anything to me for me to feel animosity towards him. Compared to a certain group of chauvinistic assholes that man handled me and nearly choked me to death, Eros seemed like a better choice.

I can think of several occurrences where Eros could have really caused damage to me because of my rather childish behavior, yet he chose not to. He hasn't hit me nor has he raised his voice at me like he could have. 

Werewolves aren't really known for having a such a calm cool demeanor. They tend to be rather hot headed, dominating and easily angered. 

I find Eros to be quite different from what I expected.

Alright.

I will trust him unless he proves otherwise.

I grind my teeth together and glare almost in warning at him before slowly approaching, afraid to encroach on his property in case it would trigger his feral instincts.

My shoulders are tensed, hands still clutching the front of the white shirt with a death drip, and back still hunched over. 

Eros chose to disregard my weird behavior and not comment on it.

I shuffled over and turned my back to him before realizing what a stupid idea that was. 

The experience I managed to get from analyzing werewolves for so long is: never turn your back to the predator.

Even injured werewolves can do more damage in their defensive stage than uninjured ones. And I happened to make one of the most important mistakes.

Although I was certain he wasn't going to take my life, there was still a smidgen of unease.

I swiftly turned my head and analyzed his relaxed posture. He hadn't really moved from his spot ever since I left the bathroom.

Perhaps this would be a really good time to talk to him about a compromise. He doesn't look too hard to approach with that tranquil atmosphere around him.