Naylan, an Alpha by birth, has always dreamed of running a pack of his own. Born into the busy city of Halifax, Nova Scotia, where city wolves run in small groups, and disregard communal living, Naylan had to pursue his dreams elsewhere - Toronto, a...
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MAVIS
Kissing Naylan was just... something. On another plane of existence? Indescribable? I wasn't sure if it was because he was my mate or if he was just a good kisser. It didn't matter though. What mattered was that my chest felt like it was going to burn up, and my knees and hands felt wobbly whenever our tongues met. Maybe that was why we'd started opting to make out on the ground—presses up against the dewy grass that smelled like rainwater from the previous day.
"I need to breathe, Mavis," he said when I pulled away for a bit. I smiled down at him, chuckling as I watched him roll his eyes. His chest was rising and falling fast, and his lips were parted as he took in as much air as he could into his mouth.
He closed his eyes for a bit, frowning a little before opening them up again. "Get off me," he sighed, pushing me until I rolled on to his side and stared up at the sky. My chest was rising and falling—my breathing was still uneven, but I was sure things would return to normal in a couple of minutes.
The birds were chirping as they flew overhead. My expression was blank for the most part, but I felt my stomach squeeze up and the end of my lips twisted in a frown when I felt Naylan's thoughts. As expected, the bonding effect had increased with physical contact, and now a lot of the guesses I used to have about Naylan's emotions were less guesswork and more tactful now.
He was worried, and so could feel it, and it made me feel terrible. It's been over a month since he promised that he would tell me when he figured things out, but he still hadn't and I was starting to wonder what was so important that he had lodged in his mind for two fortnights.
"You're still thinking too much," I said, not being able to keep my thoughts to myself.
Naylan blinked, turning his head so that our eyes met. "Sorry," he whispered, not even trying to hide the fact that he was zoning off. "I'm just thinking about—"
"A lot of stuff," I said, finishing his sentence for him. He stared at me, closing his mouth before nodding with a sigh.
"Yeah..." he trailed, acknowledging the excuse he had been using for at least a month now. "Sorry."
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