Chapter 12: Chapter 12

Arya

It's very quiet. The light is muted. I am comfortable and warm, in this bed. Hmm... I open my eyes, and for a moment, I'm tranquil and serene, enjoying the strange unfamiliar surroundings. I have no idea where I am. The headboard behind me is in the shape of a massive sun.

The room is large and airy and plushly furnished in browns and golds and beige. I have never seen it before. My befuddled brain struggles through its recent visual memories. Holy crap. How did I get here?n

Fractured memories of the previous night come slowly back to haunt me. The drinking, oh no the drinking, the vomiting, oh no the vomiting. Logan. I cringe inwardly. I don't remember coming here.

I'm wearing my t-shirt, bra, and panties. No socks. No jeans. Holy shit.

I glance at the bedside table. On it is a glass of orange juice and two tablets. Advil.

Control freak that he is, he thinks of everything. I sit up and take the tablets. Actually, I don't feel that bad, probably much better than I deserve. The orange juice tastes divine.

It's thirst-quenching and refreshing. Nothing beats freshly squeezed orange juice for reviving an arid mouth.

There's a knock on the door. My heart leaps into my mouth, and I can't seem to find my voice. He opens the door anyway and strolls in.

Holy hell, he's been working out. He's in gray sweatpants that hang, in that way, off his hips and a gray singlet, which is dark with sweat, like his hair. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I feel like a two-year-old, if I close my eyes then I'm not here.

"Good morning Pretty face. How are you feeling?"

"Better than I deserve," I mumble.

I peek up at him. He places a large shopping bag on a chair and grasps each end of the towel that he has around his neck. He's staring at me, blue eyes dark, and as usual, I have no idea what he's thinking. He hides his thoughts and feelings so well.

"How did I get here?" My voice is small, contrite.

He comes and sits down on the edge of the bed. He's close enough for me to touch, for me to smell. Oh my... sweat and body wash and my mate, it's a heady cocktail - so much better any that has ever passed my taste buds.

"After you passed out, I brought you here," he says phlegmatically.

"Did you put me to bed?"

"Yes." His face is impassive.

"Did I throw up again?" My voice is quieter.

"No."

"Did you undress me?" I whisper.

"Yes." He quirks an eyebrow at me as I blush furiously. "You are embarrassed that I undressed you? You are my mate and this is supposed to be the least of the things I can do. Jeez, Arya. You amuse me."

"Did you eat last night?" His tone is accusatory. I shake my head. What major transgression have I committed now? His jaw clenches, but his face remains impassive.

"You need to eat. That's why you were so ill." He runs this hand through his hair, and I know it's because he's exasperated.

"Are you going to continue to scold me?"

"Is that what I'm doing?"

"I think so."

"You're lucky I'm just scolding you."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if you were mine, you wouldn't have pulled that stunt yesterday. You didn't eat, you got drunk, and you put yourself at risk." He closes his eyes, dread etched on his lovely face, and he shudders slightly. When he opens his eyes, he glares at me.

I scowl back at him. What is his problem? Well, I am not completely his. Yet. He hasn't marked me. Or maybe he did when I was unconscious! I lift my hand instinctively to my neck checking for a scar. If it were there, I would have felt it. He watches me with startled ocean-blue eyes.

"What? Do you think I marked you? While you were insentient?" he looks disappointed.

"I know very well that you are capable of anything, Alpha Logan. You never let anything get in your way. You said it yourself!"

"If I wanted to mark you without your permission, I would have done it while you are active and sentient so I can show you whom you belong to instead of acting like a coward." He looks deadpan and serious.

"I hate to think what could have happened to you."

"I would have been fine. I was with Penny."

"And the moron that was trying to prove his manhood outside the bar," he snaps at me.

"Mark just got out of line." I shrug.

"You know him?" the expression on his face is priceless.

"Kinda. We studied together at some level. Why does it matter anyway?"

"I will find him and I will discipline him."

"You are quite the disciplinarian," I hiss at him.

"Oh, Arya, you have no idea." His eyes narrow, and then he grins wickedly. It's disarming. One minute, I'm confused and angry, the next I'm gazing at his gorgeous smile.

Wow... I am entranced, and it's because his smile is so rare. I quite forget what he's talking about.

"I'm going to have a shower. Unless you'd like to join me?" He cocks his head to one side, still grinning. My heartbeat has picked up, and my medulla oblongata has neglected to fire any synapses to make me breathe. His grin widens, and he reaches over and runs his thumb down my cheek and across my lower lip.

"I'll pass. I will shower later. After you," I respond hesitantly.

"You are afraid that I will see you or that I will fuck you in there?" I shudder with both fear and excitement. I don't respond. He chuckles and pounces onto the bed, hovering over me like a tower. His face leans closer. I suddenly look aside when I realize what he is up to.

"What is it?" he inquires.

"I haven't brushed my teeth so I don't think this is a good idea. He chuckles. "I would say it doesn't matter if you didn't look so uncomfortable." He kisses me on the cheek and gets off the bed.

"Breakfast will be here in fifteen minutes.

You must be famished." He heads into the bathroom and closes the door.

I let out the breath that I've been holding. Why is he so damned attractive. Right now I want to go and join him in the shower. I have never felt this way about anyone. My hormones are racing. My skin tingles where his thumb traced over my face and lower lip. I feel like squirming with a needy, achy... discomfort. I don't understand this reaction.

Hmm... Desire. This is desire. This is what it feels like. This is what having a mate you are so attracted to feels like.

I lie back on the soft feather filled pillows. He is the only man who has ever set my blood racing around my body. Yet, he's so antagonizing too; he's difficult, complicated, and confusing

I scramble out of his bed frantically searching for my jeans. He emerges from the bathroom wet and glistening from the shower, still unshaven, with just a towel around his waist, and there am I - all bare legs and awkward gawkiness. He's surprised to see me out of bed.

"If you're looking for your jeans, I've sent them to the laundry." His gaze is a dark obsidian. "They were spattered with your vomit."

"Oh." I flush scarlet.

"I sent for another pair and some shoes. They're in the bag on the chair."

Clean clothes. What an unexpected bonus.

"Um... I'll have a shower," I mutter. "Thanks." What else can I say? I grab the bag and dart into the bathroom away from the unnerving proximity of the naked Alpha.

In the bathroom, it's all hot and steamy from where he's been showering. I strip off my clothes and quickly clamber into the shower anxious to be under the cleansing stream of water. It cascades over me, and I hold up my face into the welcoming torrent. I want my mate. I want him badly. Simple fact. For the first time in my life, I want to go to bed with a him. I want to feel his hands and his mouth on me.

The water is warm and soothing. Hmm... I could stay under this shower, in his bathroom, forever. I reach for the body-wash and it smells of him. It's a delicious smell. I rub it all over myself, fantasizing that it's him - him rubbing this heavenly scented soap into my body, across my breasts, over my stomach, between my thighs with his long fingered hands. My heartbeat picks up again, this feels so... so good.

"Breakfast is here." He knocks on the door, startling me.

"Okay," I stutter as I'm yanked cruelly out of my erotic daydream.

I climb out of the shower and grab two towels. I put my hair in one and wrap it on my head. Hastily, I dry myself, ignoring the pleasurable feel of the towel rubbing against my over-sensitized skin.

I inspect the bag of jeans. Not only has he bought me jeans and new Converse, but a pale blue shirt, socks, and underwear. A clean bra and panties - actually to describe them in such a mundane, utilitarian way does not do them justice. They are an exquisite design of some fancy European lingerie. All pale blue lace and finery. Wow. I am in awe and slightly daunted by this underwear. . What's more, they fit perfectly. But of course they do. I flush to think of whoever he sent and hope it's a lady.

I dress quickly. The rest of the clothing is a perfect fit. I brusquely find a hairdryer and dry it.

I'm relieved to find the bedroom empty.