"ARE YOU OKAY?" Michael asks. He is out of her and by her side in moments.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm alright. Thanks," she replies.
"Arielle...your eyes. They're glowing," Michael says, his face flushed. Arielle immediately shields her eyes from his unwavering stare.
"I think it's my eyes. They must be playing tricks on me," Michael immediately puts in.
Arielle has no idea why he is covering for her but she is glad though. No one wants to spoil post-coital bliss with supernatural tales. She can just imagine the scenario; telling Michael,
'hey, love. You just fucked a werewolf — or
'hey, sweetie. You're engaged to a Mooner. Surprise!'
She falls short of imagining his response. In the least worst possible case, he'll have a heart attack.
Michael bundles her onto him, and she rests her head on his chest as he massages her scalp. She hears his heart beating wildly in his chest and she suspects it has little to do with their epic sex.
"Michael," she begins, begging her inner wolf not to betray her sincerity. "...I'm here for you."
He stays still for a full minute—she counts the seconds. When he does reply, his touch turns softer.
"Arielle, I saw something fleeing the house," he says softly.
Now it's her heart that beats faster.
"Something like what?"
"It looked like....like a naked woman."
Arielle stiffens on him, glad his eyes can't meet hers'. She had never been able to lie to him. It must be his eyes. His blue fucking beautiful eyes. She comprehends immensely his statement.
After her uncomfortable encounter with the Fiskes', and the pleasurable one with him at her room's entryway, she'd run wild—putting it mildly.
Some would say she scaled a window two stories high, dropping to the ground like it was just a step away. Then running naked for twenty minutes, under the crescent moon with darkened leaves and cool, night air as her whisperers. But she would never say that. Never.
She'd returned to the Mansion few minutes before Fallon barreled into her room to drag her to the party. Good thing about Shifters– superspeed. After her momentous tête-à-tête with nature, it had taken her all of five minutes to don the silver ensemble and dab some powder before Fallon's entrance.
The Dinner party progressed smoothly. She'd conversed with many patrons and Invitees—mostly her aunts, laughed off a few patriarchal comments, and had a brief make-out session with Michael which eventually led to their earlier exertion. Her thoughts are broken when Michael places his fingers on her cheek and angles her face to his.
"I'm here for you, Mi' amor," he whispers, his blue eyes drugging.
Arielle nods and leans back on his chest. Michael can't be here, there, or anywhere for her.
No one can.
Not even her own parents.