Beast of America

crashes on my left -pt. 07/12

AN

I'm tired. Goodnight.

This chapter is so short and so late. Sorry.

My personal life decided to go up in flames.

Song on the side reflects on what is to come very soon.

Werewolves aren't cold.

It's nature, something hot in their blood just keeps heat pumping in their bodies and keeps their skin warm. They can feel cold, deep in their bones and gooseskin will prickle on their arms- but if you touched their skin, it'd never feel less than a hundred degrees.

Maybe that's the reason why Murray woke up.

Maybe he felt the icy freeze beside him that was supposed to be his mate. His warm Sammy that felt like a heater because for the past seventy two hours, their lips have been swollen from the rough kisses and her body has been radiating so much warmth that it made his skin itch in discomfort.

But she was icy- frozen.

He stilled at her touch, it was wrong- not right, not right his instincts told him. She smelled off, he felt off- everything was off.

"Sammy, Sammy?" He whispered, the girl was draping herself over him, her hand disappeared behind his neck and her breath was steady on her mark she left on him, as if staking claim to him even as she slumbered.

"Sammy?!" Murray repeated, because the cold breath that left her lips was marking him up with goosebumps, the other hand that she let leak underneath his shirt made his breath halt, her frozen fingers drawing lazy circles on his hipbone.

"Mhmm?" She sounded satisified for the rest of her life, being next to Murray felt right- with her hands touching every inch of him and her mouth that already explored every inch of his.

Murray blinked, his hands trickled down to her chin, lifting it up as he tapped it up, "You're cold."

*

She's cold.

Cold. Cold.

Freezing, chilled to the damn bone- ice leaking into her veins and flashes of white heat and chilling tempatures keep traveling through her body.

It's four in the morning- Murray shouldn't even be awake, but then again, his mate shouldn't be clutching on his hand. The fingers that scratched long marrs into his back, the nails that etched up every inch of him as she needed more but he gave her less, were trembling.

"Sammy- Sammy, fuckin'- what am I supposed-" He was shaking with fear, the emotion that used to be so unfamaliar had been making its presence known for the past days. Everything inside of him, every single tiny little particle that Murray was desperately wanted- needed- Sammy to stop shivering, to go back to being a heater instead of looking like an icicle that could break into a thousand shards.

"Mur." Because that was the only thing she could say, her teeth clacking together as her jaw couldn't stop itself from the freeze that possessed her body.

"S'alright, gon' be alright- God, God, it's going to- to- be alright." His hands thread into her hair, and instead of the clutching she had once shown him, the vise grasp of her ankles locking behind his torso and her hands catching on the back of her neck, she was limp.

Her lithe body was no longer pumping with the ability to pull him closer, but God did she want to. She wanted him to wrap his warmth around her and order him to never let go of her, not after this freeze was over and not after anything at all. Always. Always always always.