His Inescapable Mate novel Chapter 9

I just nodded, uncomfortable in this tight closeness with the obsessed werewolf. The whole drive there, Vincent didn't turn on the radio once. We rode on in awkward silence...well awkward for me at least. Vincent was perfectly content, looking over at me every now and then, that smile plastered on his face, his fangs pointing out over his bottom lip a little bit. I tried not to squirm under his admiring eye, totally aware of the fact that he was ten thousand times stronger than me and could do anything he wanted.

Eventually we reached the diner, and Vincent was all too eager to act like a gentleman by rushed out of the truck to open my door for me. That or he was making sure I wouldn't try to run away from him. He put his arm around my waist and led me inside the diner where we took a booth near the back window, away from the other werewolf customers.

I couldn't help but notice that when we entered the diner, Vincent's hold on me tightened and I could've sworn I heard him growl a little, but maybe I was just imagining it. I slid into the booth, expecting Vincent to be like most normal beings and take the side opposite me, but instead he slid into the side as me, trapping me.

"What sounds good to you?" Vincent asked as he picked up a menu and handed it to me, not even bothering to get one himself. Instead, he read mine over my shoulder.

I shrugged, shuddering as his breath warmed my neck.

"You can get whatever you want, Mate," he whispered, nuzzling my neck once more. So now he's trying to buy my affection with food.

A waiter walked up to us, obviously werewolf. Vincent growled a little, keeping it low, but I could feel it vibrate his body.

"What can you guys to drink?" the waiter asked us, ignoring Vincent's hostile attitude.

"I'll have an orange juice," I said.

The waiter's eyes grew wide and he looked at me like I had grown another head. Perhaps they didn't have orange juice or something. The waiter looked at Vincent, a scared look on his face. Vincent looked pissed, his fists tightly clenched, his teeth grinding. He took a few deep breaths and looked at the waiter.

"My mate will have an orange juice. Give me a coffee. Black," he all but growled at the guy.

The waiter shyly nodded and hurried off behind the counter to get our drinks.

"Mate," Vincent quietly growled at me.

"Hm?" I looked at him from the sugar packet I was playing with in my hands. "What is it?"

Vincent got a little closer to me, having both his arms wrapped around me. "Mate, it's considered wrong when a mate talks to another male werewolf."

"Sure thing," the waitress said, sounding very uncomfortable around us. She walked off and Vincent tapped my shoulder.

"Mate, I didn't mean to say you couldn't talk to anyone besides me, just other males," he cooed, as if that were supposed to make me feel better.

Who was this guy? Why on earth did he think, that not even twenty-four hours after meeting him, that he could control who I associate with? I'm so fed up with this mate nonsense. I just want to leave this diner, leave Vincent, and leave this whole stupid werewolf territory!

We were silent after that, me too mad to say anything and Vincent trying to think of something to say that would make me feel better. Every now and then he'd perk up as if he thought of something, but would then sag, determining that it wouldn't help. Before long, he just settled on resting his head on my shoulders.

"You know," he said in a slow voice, gauging my reaction, "when I first phased, I was so pissed."

I stopped sulking for a while and listened to his story.

"I was...I think thirteen? Yea, it was twelve years ago, I was thirteen. And I had just got this brand new bike that I had saved up all my money for. I rode that thing from morning 'til night, from when I got out of bed until my mom called me inside for the day.