A Mate's Denial(12)

“Sounds perfect.”





Chapter Seven


Trager took every stair, hoping it would be the last, until they reached the top. His mate stopped to talk to an elderly neighbor, and then finally unlocked the door to her apartment.

Yes, he was delirious with exhaustion, but he couldn’t remember ever feeling so happy. This entire day had been like Christmas Eve, with how giddy he was. The thought was almost embarrassing, but it was his woman. He couldn’t be ashamed for being excited. It wasn’t a done deal by any means, but she was accepting him. She had asked him to the market. She had suggested he come to her place for coffee. She had held his hand.

Now she was opening her home to him—something he’d never expected her to do. It was enough to make his throat dry, and is eyes… not.

He blinked away the traitorous moisture and followed her inside.

The apartment was small. Just an open kitchen/living room set up, with a couple doors to the side, which he assumed led to the bedroom and bathroom. The walls were painted the color of her pants, with white trim. Navy curtains hung across the windows and a giant painting of a red calla lily took up most of one wall.

It was simple, clean, and comfortable. Trager loved it.

He followed his mate into the small kitchen, where she awkwardly deposited the two bags she carried onto a counter that was clearly made for someone taller than her.

“Just find a space and drop ‘em,” she instructed. He got most of his six bags on the counter. One ended up on the stovetop.

“Thanks,” she said, staring up at him. “Yep, you’re looking almost gone. You need coffee, stat.”

Trager smiled. Or he hoped it was a smile. She was so damn adorable.

“Why don’t you go sit on the couch while I make it. I’ll put this stuff away later.”

Maybe it was because he was so beat, but the couch felt like an oversized marshmallow, and smelled like the heavenly scent he’d recently become familiar with. He desperately needed to stay awake, but there was no other place he’d rather fall asleep. Well, there was one, but when he made it into her bed, they most certainly wouldn’t be sleeping.

His mouth worked into a smile.

“Thanks for helping me get my things home,” she called from the kitchen. He waited to answer until the water from the faucet turned off.

“No problem. My pleasure,” he slurred.

The noise of her making him coffee, lulled him even further. He was drifting… yeah, he wasn’t going to last.

His head fell back against the cushion. Wrapped in the comfort of home, inhaling her essence, he’d never felt more at peace. The years of loneliness faded to a distant memory.

Something nagged at the edge of his consciousness, though. As perfect as this day had been… she wasn’t yet his. He didn’t even know her name. That knowledge bothered him enough that his wolf couldn’t let him rest. He needed more from her.

“What’s your name?”

The sound of her movements paused. “I’m still not sure if you’re a creeper or not.”

He let out a small laugh. “I’m in your house. Kind of beside the point, isn’t it?”

“True. You’re right.” Her voice was light, carefree.

“What’s your name, dream girl?”

Two slow blinks, while he waited for her answer. On the third, his eyes stayed closed. Silently, he begged her to tell him. Just her name, it would be enough until he woke up.

He was about to slide off into sweet empty oblivion when her soft voice lilted the most beautiful word he’d ever heard. “Kerrigan. My name is Kerrigan.”

Kerrigan. When he woke up, he would say it out loud so he could relish the way it felt on his lips. Then he was going to find a way to kiss her sweet mouth.

It was his last thought before he sank into the void.

***

“With a K. But most people just call me Kerri. It’s easier, or whatever.”

Was she crazy or had he called her “dream girl”? What did that mean? Maybe it was something he called all the girls. Whatever the case, it made her skin buzz and her heart flop. Which probably had a lot to do with the way he’d fed her lunch. Never before had any man taken such care to make sure she’d eaten. With Ethan, he’d always commented on what she’d chosen, or how much she consumed.

Are you sure you want pizza? They have salad here.

You’re not going to eat all of that are you? You could save half for later.

Or the occasional, And you wonder why your pants are too tight, when she ordered something he didn’t approve of.

But Trager, he wanted her to eat. As if it settled him, to see her full and satisfied. It had been an almost intimate experience. Just remembering it made her legs feel like jelly.