Chapter 231
In The Dark Of The Night.
“That’s good.”
He nodded, taking another bite before adding, “The party was wild, though. You really missed out, Mace. Everyone was asking about you.”
I laughed softly. “Somehow I doubt that.”
“Seriously.” His grin widened. “You’ve got a reputation already. People like you. It’s… cute.”
“Cute?” I echoed.
He chuckled. “In a good way. You don’t even try to impress anyone, and they still want to be near
you. That’s rare.”
I looked down at my burger, not sure what to say. Compliments from Dean always came with a glint in his eye that felt like it meant something else entirely.
He leaned back, bracing his hands behind him on the bonnet, watching me instead of the view. “So…
how was your week of punishment? Bet it was brutal.”
I hesitated, thinking about the quiet mornings, the reaping, the laughter, the candlelight. “It wasn’t
so bad,” I said finally. “I actually… kind of liked it.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You liked being grounded?”
“Depends who you’re with,” I said before I could stop myself.
His smirk sharpened. “Ah, right. Your brother. I heard he’s quite…protective of you.”
Something about the way he said the word brother made me stiffen.
“He’s not really…” I started, then stopped. It wasn’t worth explaining. “We worked together. That’s
all.”
Dean’s tone stayed light, but his grin turned sly. “Must be nice, though. Having someone to look out
for you like that.”
2/5
In The Dark Of The Night.
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “It is.”
He leaned closer, the air between us changing. “Still… seems like he’s a little too good at it, don’t
you think?”
I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” he said quickly, smiling again, but it didn’t reach his eyes this time. “Just seems
protective. Maybe a little too protective.”
I shrugged, trying to brush off the unease curling in my stomach. “He’s always been that way.”
Dean nodded, popping a fry into his mouth. “Guess some people can’t let go of their habits.”
He said it casually, but something in the way he watched me after made it clear he wasn’t just
talking about Elliot. The rest of the night was fine… mostly. We joked, shared school stories, and
argued over who made the best milkshakes in town. But every now and then, his hand brushed mine
a little too deliberately. His compliments lingered a little too long. His gaze was…lingering. Even
though I smiled and laughed, a small part of me kept thinking about the night before, the
candlelight, quiet music, and a man who never once made me feel cornered.
Dean leaned back on his palms, eyes flicking toward me again, that lazy grin tugging at his mouth.
“You’ve got ketchup,” he said.
I went to wipe it away, but he caught my hand halfway, fingers brushing my skin. His gaze lingered.
“Here,” he murmured, leaning in closer.
It happened fast. His breath brushed my cheek, and pure instinct made me turn at the last second.
His lips landed where my jaw met my cheek, it was soft but wrong.
I pulled back, my heart tripping over itself. “Dean…”
He laughed, though there was an edge to it now. “Oh, come on, Mace. It’s just a kiss. Don’t be such a
prude.”
3/5
In The Dark Of The Night.
Prude? I folded my arms, suddenly cold despite the warm air. “I’m not a prude. I just…” I hesitated, trying to find the words. “I’m not ready for that. Not yet.”
“Not ready? It’s a kiss, not a blood oath.”
“My birthday’s in a couple of weeks,” I said, forcing my voice to stay steady. “By then, I’ll have my wolf and a mate. Whoever they are. I just…” I looked away, to the lights below. “I want it to mean something when it happens.”
He snorted, the sound sharp and dismissive. “A fated mate bond? Really? You believe all that?”
“It’s real,” I said quietly.
“Sure it is,” he shot back, a bitter laugh under his breath. “You get one person stamped on your soul
and suddenly you’re meant to spend forever with them? Sounds more like a prison sentence to me.
Where’s the fun in that?”
His tone sharpened, every word soaked in mockery. “You don’t even know what you’re missing, Mace.
Just let me show you.”
Before I could move, his hand shot out, fingers clamping around my jaw, and he crushed his mouth
against mine. It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t passionate. There was no spark, no warmth. Just pressure,
and teeth. I shoved at his chest, but he didn’t move. He only laughed, low and dark, the sound like
nails on a chalkboard to my nerves.
“Dean,” I snapped, pushing harder, my palms flat against him. “Stop!”
He didn’t. So I slapped him hard. The crack echoed through the night. His head snapped to the side,
and the boyish grin was gone instantly. The easy charm. The warmth in his eyes. All of it was gone.
“You fucking bitch!” he spat.
The next thing I knew, the world tilted, my back hit the gravel, the air knocked clean out of my lungs, and pain flared across my hip. He’d pushed me off the car like I was nothing. Then I heard the crunch of boots in the dirt, closing the distance between us.
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