Tressandra ✓

15 ❥ Perfect person

Ryk

I watch the pack with narrowed eyes, people coming and going around me as if I don't exist. It's kind of nice. I like not being stared at. I've barely been here a month and I'm still not quite used to all of it. It's all so...different. Bizarre really. Being in charge, giving orders without threatening to kill people. It's odd. It's even stranger when I realize how much I enjoy it.

I enjoy it more than torturing and intimidation. I work smarter, not harder.

Closing the door behind me, I stand on the porch of the office for a while to observe everything silently. It's not a large pack here in Montana. We're settled in a valley in the Beartooth mountains. It's beautiful. And the small pack fits perfectly with the backdrop. It's just the right size. The fact that most of its population are lycans means that numbers aren't exactly a problem.

My mate is one of the only werewolves here, and I couldn't care less. She still means everything to me, no matter what species she is. She could be human, vampire, mermaid, werebear, fae... it wouldn't even matter. I would love her no matter what.

I think of my perfect mate, and my legs automatically carry me away from work, my Delta mindset is gone, replaced by my protective nature.

My favorite thing is coming home to Tressandra after a long day of helping run the pack. There's lots to do, but some days I don't go into work just because I want to stay at home. I don't get punished for it either, the Alpha understands. Veiler is growing on me.

On my chosen days off I lock myself in my bedroom with my mate, spending hours with her at a time. Most days we make love, but some days we simply lay there together. Sometimes Tressandra falls asleep in the middle of the day. Actually, she does that a lot.

She's always tired now. I don't know what to make of it. Maybe I'm tiring her out with my constant need to touch her. I can't keep my hands off of her, even if I tried. As soon as she gave herself to me, I couldn't stop taking her.

But I've never heard her complain, not once, because I know she loves it just as much as I do. She's always eager to be with me. It pleases me more than it should. Some part of me takes a lot of satisfaction from knowing how much she loves me, and how much she enjoys our relationship.

It's more fulfilling than killing. I've never thought that could happen. Spilling blood has pretty much always been my favorite pastime. My one hobby. But when I'm with my mate, that all fades away. I'm not a monster. I'm not a murderer. I'm not a feral lycan.

I'm Ryk. Her mate, her lover, her protector, her provider. She sees me as something completely different.

I don't deserve it, but I'll gladly take it. I'll do whatever it takes to deserve those sacred titles.

Usually Tressandra is asleep when I come home, even if it is only 7PM, and the sun is still bright. But, she's not in our bed when I find myself back in our home.

The bedroom is void of my heart. I pull the big, white comforter away from the mattress, but she's not there. My breath halts, and confusion leads to fear. I whip around, and my momentary panic is interrupted with my name being called.

My head snaps up.

"Ryk!" She calls again. Her voice doesn't sound scared, but there is an alertness to it that puts me on edge. I'm quick to run to the bathroom. Once the door is open, I see my beautiful mate standing over the sink, tears in her eyes.

Now I'm really freaking out. I bolt to her side, grabbing her and looking her over frantically. As soon as my skin touches hers, I look past the fuzzy warmth of the mate bond to feel that she's shaking like a leaf. Trembling under my fingertips with the heft of her emotion, Tressandra won't look at me. I don't know what the emotion is on her face, but I plan on finding out.