He calls me Angel

38. Wolf's gaze

I tried to fight back, but it was futile.

I got lost in the moment. But if it meant he could make love to me like that, then I didn't care. I'd rise up to his challenge, only to have him consume me completely.

"Happy now?" I asked, once we were both seated in his car and he was driving past the speed limit.

"Very!"

Dio mio, those eyes.

He brought my hand to his lips, stealing a glance my way, before his eyes were back on the road. Still, I felt their intensity, as if I was receiving all of his attention.

As we drove deeper into the Chicagoan woods, the monotone colors of the city were replaced with a deep green. Wooded highlands surrounded the lakes, with prairies and shrubs covering the forest preserves.

It was a warm day, the sun shining above us enhancing the nature's beauty.

I was lost in my thoughts, when I spotted the wooden cabin, deep into the woodlands. Another two cars were parked at the front of the stone steps leading up to the entrance of the house.

We were the last to arrive, sadly.

This only left me option number two: Rip-off the band-aid.

Just like everything else in my life ever since I met Brandon King.

We stepped foot out of the car, the wind hitting me first in the face. It was supposed to be a warm day, but under the trees' shade, the temperature was chilly. I realized, too late for my own good, I was dressed lightly; maybe a dress wasn't my best idea.

The creaky sound of the door opening halted my thoughts, and Malcolm ushered us inside, as he was exiting the cabin to pick some wood for the fireplace.

Warmth enveloped my body when the door closed behind us, and I sighed a breath I didn't know I was holding, both unnerved and relieved.

Mia was occupied with a guitar in her hands, earphones in both ears as she played a melody I couldn't recognize. Liam was sitting on opposite sides of the same couch as hers, staring at something intently on his phone.

Sounds of cooking utensils and pots scraping one another drew my attention towards the back of the room, the person behind them still in the kitchen, unaware of our late arrival.

A soft scent of basil and garlic wafted towards us, making me lick my lips at the prospects, when I felt Mia's hands clutch my own.

"If this is what I'm thinking, then let me take it off your hands," she said, with a knowing smile and a playful wink.

At least Mia wouldn't be disappointed with my choice of desert.

"Where can I put these, pops?" said Malcolm, directing his question towards the man sitting by the fire, occupied with the flames in the fireplace.

When I turned towards him, his warm hazel-green eyes were already staring back at me. The man was a much older version of Brandon and he looked similar to the photos Brandon showed me of his father.

"Sophie?" 

The word, the name, was barely audible, as he said it under his breath.

My eyes widened for a moment as everyone in the room became awfully quiet.

"Pops? Is everything alright?" Brandon asked, but instead his grandfather shook his head quickly, and got on his feet to greet us.

"Yes, I'm sorry, champ. Where are my manners?"