Amara sat silently on the bed. Her eyes were blankly looking out the window. From her position, she could see her curtains blowing by the wind. She remembered that she forgot to close the windows in her room. What if it rains? The floor will be wet, and Vida's mattress as well.
However, even though she thought of it, she had no strength to go downstairs and cross the street. Why did Azer bring her to his room anyway? She could have gone to her own room. She wanted to bathe. She wanted to wash herself with soap and scrub her whole body.
The lingering perfume of that bastard was still in her. It made her head boil in anger, but also made her stomach lurched inwardly. Unconsciously, she rubbed her neck where his lips touched repeatedly.
She only stopped when knocks on the door were heard.
The door opened and Azer walked in. He carried a bag and silently walked past her to the bathroom. Her heart ached at the blatant ignoring. Can he blame her for getting scared? His grey eyes glowed sharply and dangerously, and he was grinding his teeth like a predator preparing to attack.
He felt like a completely different person – like he wasn't human. Those veined arms that squeezed a bone and it broke, weren't something like a normal human can do. It didn't make sense. Yet, when she saw him walking away, her fear of him was overwhelmed by the fear of losing him.
Why? Why did it feel like she can no longer live without him? She felt like this after only a few months of knowing him, a few weeks of loving him.
With sadness creeping into her system, she decided to lean on the headboard and glanced around his room. From the outside, it seemed the same size as her room, but it was more spacious. There was only that bed she was lying on, a small table beside it and a two-door closet in the corner.
It doesn't have anything expensive for a thief to break in. Her house has more to offer. Nothing in his room screamed nobility. She closed her eyes and thought of her happy memories with Azer, that way, she wouldn't remember how he looked earlier.
"Amara."
His deep voice jolted her awake. She didn't realize falling asleep after reminiscing about them. She sat up and was going to stand when Azer knelt in front. He hesitated grabbing her hands, but carefully gathered them in the end.
He looked at her tenderly, "I'm sorry if I frightened you. I couldn't control myself. I lost reason when I saw that bastard touching you."
His gaze moved to her neck and she saw anger flashed in his eyes for a moment. It disappeared quickly as though he was suppressing himself so as not to scare her.
Amara shook her head slowly. She bit her lower lip. It didn't feel right that he was apologizing after saving her when all fault was on her.
"I-I'm sorry…I hurt you…," she muttered. Her eyes lingered on his hands caressing hers. "Thank you for saving me."
"Are you still scared?"
Amara's body stiffened. She stared back at him, taking longer to answer.
She was scared watching him walk away as if he had given up on her; as if he had finally realized her real worth; and as though he looked exhausted and hurt loving her. His downcast eyelids and drooping shoulders were like needles stabbing her. She realized she couldn't bear to see him like that.
She lifted her face and met those grey eyes again. Her pupils slightly trembled when she remembered how they looked before, but she fought the urge to look away.
'He'll get hurt', she told herself. 'That's the last thing I wanted to do.'
Amara shook her head and bit her lips before answering, "No. Not anymore."
Azer stared at her, weighing the truth in her words. She didn't avoid him and smiled at him instead. Whether he saw a pretense or a frail honesty in her eyes, she couldn't tell. She couldn't perceive what was on his mind.
"Can I go back home now? I want to take a bath," she broke the silence with her exhausted voice.
Azer smiled bitterly, "Why must you go back? You can take a bath here."
Without warning, Azer stood and carried her off from the bed to the bathroom. She was surprised, but she didn't complain. Any woman carried by those strong arms would surely feel safe, but Amara felt strange. She hugged herself and closed her eyes.
How could she blatantly lie in his face? He must have realized.
Azer set her down on the edge of the large tub and then gently combed her tangled hair with his fingers. It was so gentle as though she was being caressed by the soft breeze on a sunny morning. A bit warm, tender, and calming.
His hands on her hair slid down on her shoulders. His eyes settled on her neck and they darkened as his jaw tightened. Veins crept from his neck and she felt his rage. She winced and her hands clenched over the skirt of her dress.
The silence between them was filled with tension and awkwardness. Or was she the only one who felt like that? Azer reached on the straps of her dress behind and began untangling them one by one.
His hands were careful even though his body was pressed all over her. Her outer dress almost slid from her shoulders if she hadn't caught them. Although it revealed her nape down to the center of her spine, she still wore a thin chemise underneath.
"I can wash myself," Amara murmured nervously.
"Your back is bruised. Does it hurt?"
"A bit."
"You won't find it hard to wash yourself?"
"I won't."
Azer finally stepped back. He sighed and swept his hair up, a hand on his waist, then he added in a voice that sounded a bit annoyed, "I'm mad."
Amara lowered her head. It was her fault. She was being careless. She didn't expect that fake agent to go overboard, even when she caught him ogling her before. She didn't think about it, because of her stupid reason that no one would want her.
Yet, that stupid belief was crushed by the living reason in front of her.
Their eyes met, and Azer quickly avoided his eyes. The damsel in distress sitting on the bathtub edge clinging to her halfway-undressed clothes exposing her skin while looking at him bashfully yet mixed with slight fear was riling something inside him.
He came to help her bathe. He wanted to wash away that revolting human scent from her himself. But she didn't want her to be scared any more than she was.
"Okay," he responded after calming himself. "Let me at least do this."
He tilted her head to expose her neck, the part where Nolan touched. He buried his face and planted kisses. Amara couldn't help but flinch at the cold touch of his lips sliding down her neck. He was erasing every trace of that unfamiliar scent in her, even though it could be done with just washing.
He noticed her necklace and his eyes gleamed with jealousy. He badly hoped that necklace wasn't from another man.
He ran his tongue and sucked on her skin. Not even the tiniest part was left untouched. Her slender neck turned like newly bloomed roses beautifully. Soft and reddish, and glistened from the moisture of her skin.
He bathed her in his scent. If only another wolf would see her, they would easily recognize his marking. If only humans could smell his scent on her, no one would dare to approach. Amara belonged to him, fated or not.
Once his frustrations were gone, he stopped and planted one final kiss below her ear. As he lifted his head, he saw how flushed her face was. He sighed in relief. He feared that she'd hate his touch, but it didn't happen.
"I hate it when another man touches you, Amara. I'm possessive. I want you all by myself," he ran his index to her jawline and turned her face to him. He dropped his intense gaze on her trembling ones, "You can slap me, hit me, whenever you dislike my touch. But please, Amara, don't hate me."
How could she hate him when he loved her so? His eyes that bore into hers were unshakeable yet she could glimpse a tinge of uncertainty. He was afraid. Afraid that he'll lose her – just as how she was afraid.
She leaned closer and brushed her lips on him lightly, then told him that it would never happen. He could touch her more than this, and she'll willingly oblige to give herself. There's no room for hate.