(3) Painstaker

Seventeen: Enemy

I'd always loved kissing. Not the sloppy kind that went down in middle school. The languid, almost graceful movement of lips against lips. In high school, Kat had her books, Ella had her wolf man, and I had sweet stollen kisses from guys who caught my attention.

This, however, was so much different. It was more than just lips on lips. It was more than the physical feeling of another's skin caressing mine. This feeling, Zeke's kiss, was bone deep. I could feel the tingle all the way down to my toes. It took all but a millisecond for my mind, body, and soul to be completely lost within the circle that Zeke had drawn me into.

My neck burned, but in a good way. The places he put his hands, one around my waist and the other cupping my face, left a trail of happy electric jolts. Gasping into his mouth, I was a prisoner to him. Maybe it was because I'd gone so long without sexual contact. Maybe my body was finally feeling what it had been craving for years. Or, a voice at the back of my mind piped up, maybe being in the arms of a mate drew forces I would never be able to comprehend or explain.

He was everywhere, all at once. I swam in his scent and his arms became my armour. Suddenly, years of running disappeared. I couldn't remember why I'd turned away from him so many years ago. I couldn't remember why we weren't right for each other. I couldn't remember why he would never be able to accept me. All I knew was him.

Both of Zeke's hands were cradling my face, as if I were the most precious thing he had ever held. When he pulled back, my eyes fluttered open to see the strikingly bright blue in his.

"Crystal," he murmured, sounding like a plea. "Don't run from me anymore. I'm not sure I can survive it."

My hands, which had been flattened against his chest, balled into fists. With his lips separated from mind, thought trickled back in, reminding me who I was. "I'm not sure how to stop," I admitted before I could stop myself. I was under his spell, trapped in his vortex.

Zeke didn't relent. He was all I could see and all I could feel. "Why?" I felt vulnerable, myself, but hearing him speak that word nearly tore my heart from my chest. Sometimes I forgot that Zeke, the man with the smug grin and scarily calm personality, could feel pain.

"Because..." My voice trailed off. I needed to pull myself together. I needed to get out of his hold. Still, a weaker side of me didn't want to.

'Your mate will never accept you.' Even dead, my father controlled me. As those words of his registered in my brain, I felt my walls slowly rebuild themselves, brick by agonizing brick.

Zeke must have sensed my mental retreat. Letting out a low growl, he backed us up until I was cornered against a wall. There, he planted hands on both sides of my face and pressed close enough to me that the rest of the room disappeared. "Stop."

I pressed against his chest. "Move."

"Why are you here with me, Crystal?"

"What do you mean?"

"Here, underground, far away from your pack. Why are you with me?"

"You said it yourself; there are people after you and with your mark on my neck, I'm also a target. I can't put my pack in danger. Now, would you move?" Frustrated, I slammed my fist against his chest. Sure, I could probably pull out the big guns and force him off of me, but I didn't want to hurt him. He knew I could, which was probably why he wasn't moving.

The vulnerability in Zeke's eyes wharfed into something sinister, causing a different kind of shiver to run down my spine. "I know you, Crystal. If you didn't want to come, you wouldn't have come. You would have done everything within your power to stay away from me. So, I'll ask you again, why did you come?"