Chapter 16
Flirt back. My wolf’s voice was sultry, edged with mischief. He’s smart, nice, and dreams big.
And those tats…
Her voice grew softer as I caught myself staring at the veins on his forearms, pronounced and
strong. Yum.
I
“I don’t believe you,” I teased, rolling my eyes.
Matthew turned toward me, his body language shifting as if to measure my tone. The playful
smile tugging at my lips must’ve tipped him off, and his posture relaxed slightly.
“You should believe me,” he said gently, but the weight behind his words stilled my smile.
The aroma of cooking filled the air as he grabbed a towel to wipe his hands. Then, with a
smooth, almost predatory grace, he walked toward me. No, stalked toward me. My smile faltered the closer he came, his presence shifting the room’s energy.
He leaned on the counter beside me, his body turned toward mine, a flicker of sadness
crossing his features. Before I could even process it, his hand reached out, brushing a stray
strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers were warm, his touch careful.
When his green eyes met mine, I saw more than color; there was a history etched there.
Patterns that spoke of pain, resilience, and honesty.
“I went down a dark path after my mate rejected me,” he said, his voice low, monotone but
steady. “I didn’t care about my pack, didn’t care about myself. A part of me–and my wolf–was lost. I acted out. Angry. Irrational. I turned to meaningless things to fill that void. Too much
reckless fighting, too much pointless sex.”
My breath hitched at his candor, but he continued, unwavering.
“It took time, but I found my way again. And trust me, I don’t flirt with other women anymore.”
His words were raw, honest, almost reverent. Something about them made me want to reach for him, to ease the weight he carried. He seemed so composed now, so tethered. It was hard to imagine him as the disaster he described, yet I believed him.
“I don’t know what to say,” I admitted.
He stepped away, retreating to the stove. As he stirred the pan, the room felt lighter, like the air
had shifted back.
“I’m impressed by how you’ve handled rejection,” he said, his tone as casual as if he were
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commenting on the weather.
“Yeah, well..” I shrugged, leaning back against the counter. “It’s not like Bren and I were close
or anything.”
“No?”
I shook my head, staring at my hands. “Not really. I tutored him a little, and we were friends- or so I thought. But he wouldn’t even let me touch his hand, much less kiss him.”
Matthew plated the food, the scent making my stomach growl. He didn’t speak again until we were both seated at the dining table, a plate of roasted vegetables and tender steak before
each of us.
“I’m assuming you waited for your mate?” he asked, his voice calm, without judgment.
I let out a soft laugh. “Yeah. Look where that got me.”
He chuckled, the sound rich and warm. “I waited too. Not that it mattered much to her.”
“At least you’ve had s*x,” I muttered, stabbing a piece of steak with my fork. “At this rate, I’m
going to die a mateless virgin.”
The fork in Matthew’s hand paused, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. For a brief moment, his eyes darkened, and a low growl vibrated in his chest. It was so soft I almost missed it- almost. He covered it quickly with a cough, taking a sip of water to compose himself.
Did I say something wrong?
“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” he said eventually, flashing me one of those devilish grins that could
make knees weak.
The tension in my chest eased.
“I could smell that male wolf on you yesterday,” he added casually.
“Who? Tyler?” I grimaced. “No way. He’s like a brother.”
Matthew’s brow arched slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting before he turned his attention
back to his plate.
As the meal continued, the conversation turned lighter.
“So, you tutored the Spartan Alpha?” he asked, amusement flickering in his tone.
I let out a laugh. “Yep. If you ever go to war with him, just put the quadratic formula on your flag. He’d surrender instantly.”
His laugh came quick and full, and I couldn’t help but bask in it. It wasn’t just the sound that
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made me feel warm–it was the way it softened him, like he was letting down walls brick by brick.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, still chuckling.
“For what it’s worth,” he added after a moment, his voice quieter, “I’m glad you know how to use the quadratic formula. Even if Sparta didn’t.”
A strange pang of validation rippled through me, one I didn’t realize I craved. I smiled so brightly my cheeks hurt. “Really?”
“Really,” he said with a sheepish shrug. “Nerds are my thing.”
The confidence to flirt back came out of nowhere. “Good,” I said, mirroring his crossed arms and tossing in a wink for good measure.
His grin faltered for a split second, replaced by something darker, more primal. Another soft growl hummed in his chest as his eyes flickered shades darker before he abruptly stood, gathering our plates.
I took that as my cue to wander into the living room, curious to explore. My eyes scanned the walls and settled on a corner where three guitars sat propped up–a sleek black electric, a rich wooden acoustic, and another that looked well–loved.
“You play?” I called, running a finger along the acoustic’s neck.
Matthew appeared in the doorway, his posture stiff. “Not anymore,” he said, almost too quickly.
“Oh, come on. I’d love to hear you play,” I pressed, settling onto the couch.
His jaw tightened, a flicker of pain crossing his face before he looked away. “It’s been a while.”
“Still,” I said softly, “it must be incredible to play something so personal. I’ve always wanted to
learn an instrument, but back home, the only music we made was with war drums.”
That earned a small chuckle from him, and for a moment, his shoulders relaxed. He reached
for the black electric guitar, brushing off a thin layer of dust before plucking the strings.
“She thought it was annoying,” he muttered under his breath.
It wasn’t meant for me to hear, but my heart clenched all the same. I watched as he tuned the
guitar, his fingers working instinctively, the motion familiar and smooth.
“I’m in a band,” he said, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips as he plugged the guitar into an amplifier.
I raised a brow, smirking. “You? In a band? With those tattoos, dark hair, and swoon–worthy
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bod? I never would’ve guessed.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, but he rolled his eyes. “I think I won’t play after all.”
“Don’t you dare!” I protested, practically jumping off the couch. “Please, Matthew.”
The sound of his name stopped him cold. His eyes snapped to mine, something unreadable flickering there.
“I’m sorry, Alpha,” I backtracked, heat rushing to my face. “I didn’t mean-”
“Don’t apologize,” he said softly. “Call me Matthew. It sounds… nice coming from you.”
The blush on my cheeks deepened, but I stayed quiet as he sat on the coffee table, the guitar resting in his lap.
When the first notes of Bohemian Rhapsody filled the room, my breath caught. His fingers moved with precision, his body swaying slightly to the music.
I curled up on the couch, hugging my knees as I watched him. His tattoos, his hands, his focus -everything about him drew me in. The music, the man–it was hypnotic.
For the first time, I found myself wondering if I’d ever felt this way about Bren.
Matthew hit the solo flawlessly, his passion pouring into every note. But the trance broke when the front door opened, and Sage walked in, her expression a mixture of shock and awe.
She looked between Matthew and me, her mouth falling open.
“I can’t believe you got him to play,” she whispered, sitting beside me.
I didn’t respond. My attention was still fixed on Matthew, my chest warm with something I couldn’t quite name.
