Chapter 7 Coward

• The door behind me creaks, and I shoot a glare at the figure in the mirror, leaning against the door frame, watching me.
• "I quit," I mutter, wiping the corner of my mouth.
• "I didn't peg you to be a coward."
• I whirl, clutching the counter behind me. "Coward? If he'd aimed to kill, I'd be dead!"
• "But you didn't die." Composed. Aloof. His expression is blank, and his aura gives off nothing. It infuriates me. I push back from the counter, closing the gap between us.
• "My life may mean nothing to you, but it's everything to me. I won't throw it away for a worthless piece of shit like you," I hiss.
• He laughs, a dark and chilling sound that sends shivers down my spine. "Bullets may have their power, but so do I. There are things in this world you can't even begin to comprehend. My life may not follow your rules, but it sure as hell matters to me. And as for being worthless? Sweetheart, I've survived more than you can fathom, and I've carved my own path through the darkness. Should it not bode well with you, leave!"
• I flinch at the intensity in his voice, but I quickly recover. My lips draw back in a snarl as I step away from him. "Well, I'm leaving!"
• I start to walk past him, but I am nearly to the door when he lashes out, grabs me and slams me against his body. It feels like crashing into an unyielding wall. My head bounces off his chest and a sharp sigh escapes me from the impact. His arms band around my torso so tightly, breathing is a struggle. He is stronger than I could ever fathom, and I feel his strength though every muscle trembling with restraint.
• "Fuck you! Let me go!" I cry, struggling to break free, but his grip only tightens.
• "But I can't, Ms. Sullivan," he whispers, his lips brushing against my ear. "It must be the bond, but I can't let you leave."
• "Do you tell them this? All your women?" I grunt sharp, struggling to dislodge his arms from my skin, but it only digs deeper into my ribs, snatching the last of my air.
• "No," he murmurs, and my knees buck when he drags his tongue over the arch of my neck. "Have you always tasted this good?"
• I suck in desperately needed air, fighting against Mr. Winchester and Ezra, who seems more than content with the way we are being held. "Mr. Winchester--"
• He grunts sharply. "Sinclair. Why won't you call me Sinclair?"
• Because it'd take away the professional air I am trying so hard to maintain. Because it'd make more out of our situation when there is nothing between us. Because it'd feel intimate to call him by his first name.
• Sinclair.
• Sin.
• Somehow, it fits him, the embodiment of everything dark and mysterious. I could never meet a person in this world who bears the same name and not think it an injustice.
• "Preferences, Mr. Winchester," I snap, resisting a shudder when his hot tongue flicks over the pulsating point on my neck. My eyelids droop when I feel his teeth graze my skin, and though I know how dangerous it is to have his teeth so close to my neck, my body responds to him, arching.
• It doesn't matter what you want when it comes to the mating bond. Your body submits to it. It succumbs. There is no strength or will power that stops you from wanting the other person.
• Getting marked by another might put a damper on it, but it never goes away. The need. The want. Eventually, it'll consume you. It is why we all engage in the Wait. To find our Erasthai. Because formal agreements, binding ceremonies and weddings, they cannot eviscerate the very essence of our beings.
• The threads are formed from the moment we are born. The Goddess weaves it into our very core as lycans. Two souls tethered by one thread. The wolves think we are lucky because we get to choose.
• We never get to. No one does. Wolves act on their basest, most primal instincts. They find their mates, and they go head first into it. Marking or rejecting them, and get gifted second chance mates if the later option rules.
• Lycans do not have that luxury. Ours is a bond that lasts through lifetimes, and after. It is why the Moon Goddess made it rare to find Erasthais. Giving us the abilities to choose for ourselves when we do not find ours.
• But when we do, there is no force in all the realms that exists that could break it.
• Does this make me foolish for rejecting Sinclair Winchester, despite knowing that at some point, I will have no fight left in me?
• Perhaps, but after everything I have been through, I'd think the least I deserved was a decent man of my choosing. I won't be his conquest. I won't be another woman he sprawls on his table. I won't be the feast he forgets right after.
• The least I can do is give him hell for it.
• But I'd need to live first, and today has to be the third shittiest day in my entire existence. A human transformed into a Were without getting bitten. The chill of death still lingers in the air, as well as the gloom.
• Everything about this screams danger, and the fact that Mr. Winchester is involved with all of this tosses him into a different type of light I do not wish to look into. I've had my fair share of monsters and trying to change them.
• How about a good guy for a change? A simple guy who worships me and looks at me like I'm his fucking moon? His Goddess? Might that be too much to ask?
• With Sinclair Winchester, it's like walking on a tightrope between attraction and danger. The more I resist, the harder he tugs.
• "Shall I tell you of my preferences too?" The playful edge to his voice is gone. It is guttural now, and thick. His free hand slides between my thighs and I bite on my lower lip to keep from making a sound.
• "No," I grit out, and he chuckles against my ear, fingers rising to--
• I lurch forward as hard as I can and rear back with speed. He lets me go before my head can slam into his jaw, and I stumble back, falling on my arse.
• I glare up at him, eyes shimmering with hate. His gaze however is glued to my exposed thighs as my skirt has ridden up to my hips. His tongue--rather long--flicks out to caress his lips, and he looks away sharply, breathing hard. "The only way I can protect you is if you stay, Ms. Sullivan. Elijah has eyes everywhere. You quit, he will assume you'll run off to the cops. He'll kill you."
• "What do you care?"
• He adjusts the cufflinks on his wrists. "This has nothing to do with caring. It's about what I want. I can't let you die until I have explored the full lengths of our relationship."
• My eyes widen and I shake my head immediately in disbelief. "You're protecting me because you haven't fucked me yet?"
• He flashes me a dashing smile. "Your words, not mine."
• Adjusting my dress, I rise to my feet. "You will work with him then? Distribute the anomaly to the masses?"
• The mirth in his eyes die, and shadows creep in. "Yes, so I can infiltrate his ranks and destroy it before he has enough for distribution."
• "It was wolf blood," I tell him. "Are there more like us here, in New York? Any he could have found out about?"
• "I have met a few over the years. None of which are gullible enough to get caught. This is insane." He runs his fingers through his air and let's out a breath before tossing a look in my direction. "Let's have lunch together. I'm hungry."
• "Pass," I decline, my shoulder bumping into his arm as I walk past him.
• The sound of his soft, musical laughter follows me all the way outside.