His

Ch. 3

I awoke to my body rising and falling slowly from the steady breathing of my mate as I lied on him, cheek squished against a warm chest. My eyes slowly adjusted to being open, and I became more aware of my body. The way I draped so easily and perfectly over Axle was not missed, nor was the way his large arm wrapped around my waist and was subtly, but definitely, grabbing at my derriere.

My eyes went wide, but I slowly lifted my head to check if he was sleeping. Unfortunately, his immoral touches were not involuntary sleeping movements.

His shining blue eyes looked down into my brown ones, and he smirked as he grabbed at my flesh rougher. I gasped and jerked away from him, scrambling to the foot of the bed. He sat up slowly, glaring at me.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked lowly.

My submission instinctively came forth, making me stutter, but my anger stayed burning. "Y-you can't do that!"

A quiet growl rumbled from him, "I can do whatever the fuck I want; you're mine."

I narrowed my eyes at him, "maybe so, but that's just because of fate. You're still a stranger to me, and you can't be grabbing at me." He glared daggers at me. I smirked as I added, "would you want me to just let any guy I just met to grab my boobies too?"

His eyes flared open in anger and turned into a stormy, clouded blue. His jaw clenched as he hissed through his teeth, "excuse me?"

I stuck my nose in the air and hmmfed snobbily. I turned on my bottom and walked quickly to the bathroom, closing the door. I took in my disheveled appearance and cringed, but accepted it. In my first act of defiance, I changed out of Axle's oversized army green shirt and reentered my cold and dirty clothes from yesterday. Slipping on my once- white converse, I exited the bathroom and went for the bedroom door without looking at my mate.

I loud growl rumbled from the bed, "where do you think you're going now?"

Opening the door, I looked back, "I'm going home but thank you for the sleepover; I had fun." I walked out of the room to the sounds of his feet being placed on the floor and stomping his way to me. He grabbed my wrist in the hallway, yanking me to him.

"Excuse me, but you don't get to decide when you leave," he growled out under his breath.

"Actually I do, and I just did," I said very matter-of-factly. "Better let me go before someone sees us," I smirked, earning a warning growl.

He hesitantly released my wrist and glared at me like he wished I was dead. I flashed him a smile and I saw his eyes open wider in shock and his body tensed before I pivoted on the ball of my foot and practically skipped out of the pack house. I could feel his anger, which only made me smirk to myself more. As proud of myself as I was, my heart tugged at being away from my mate. I shook my head at the feeling.

Making my way back home, I slumped against the door as soon as my feet touched the familiar tiles.

"Honey?!" My mother's voice called from the kitchen followed by shuffling in my direction. My parents came into the foyer with equally bewildered looks. My father peered at me over his reading glasses, still clutching a book with the folded newspaper stuffed into his knitted vest's pocket. My mother's thick black hair was thrown into a messy top bun, and her favorite light pink top with rhinestones along the collar was protected by the apron my father gifted her on Christmas.

Reading their expressions, I laughed a humorless laugh, "you don't even want to know." I sulked to my bathroom, leaving my confused parents behind.

Starting the hot shower, I sighed at finally being clean. My strawberry scented shampoo and conditioner, vanilla body wash and lotion, and warm fluffy pajamas never felt so homey as they did right now. I combed out my long hair. The dark brown locks nearly grazed the top of my derriere now. I twisted the hair into two pigtail french rope braids and sighed at my reflection.

I had always been told I'm immature. I've heard "grow up", "act your age", and "you're so childish" too many times to count. I didn't try to act childish, I just did things or wore things I liked. But now, staring at my pastel pink fluffy pajamas covered in strawberries with my hair in pigtails, I wished I would look more mature.

I brushed my teeth and promptly went to my lovely bed. The pastel pink bed sheets had little sheep on it, and the blanket was a huge faux fur down comforter. I plopped onto the open space made by me never making my bed, and in the corner of the mattress, a small mass stirred. I smiled and dug my hands under the covers, waving around until my fingertips brushed soft fur. I dove under the covers and ambushed my chubby orange cat with kisses and hugs, to which he was disgusted by and proceeded to lick himself for ten minutes.

I exited the sheets, and lied down in the bed properly. What a wild night.

Time for a nap.