Grayson opened the timber front door and dropped Chloe on the mat inside. Still flushed, she flattened her dress to her thighs and tried to busy herself.
Grayson shut the door, dropping her shoes on the rack. They undressed from their winter extremities, quiet during the task.
She hung her jacket on a hook and turned to him, “So, now what?”
“My parents aren’t home yet. They went out to a friend's tonight, but they should be back soon. It was only for dinner.”
“Where's Sherry and Ashton?”
“They're at their friend's houses,” he took her hand and brought her into the large spacious living room. With fifteen foot vaulted ceilings of timber beams, a large fireplace still host to a roaring fire and a wide-screen television that took up a large portion of wall-space, left Chloe in awe.
She sunk into a thick, suede couch, finding comfort in an instant.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, flipping on the television.
She smiled, amused that they were going to watch television.
He cleared his throat when she didn't answer, “Well?”
“No, I'm good.”
“Drink?”
She noted his attempt to be a good host, “I'm cold.”
“Hot chocolate?” he offered and tossed the remote to the couch beside her.
That sounded warm and a decent option, “Okay.”
“I'll be back in a minute,” he walked out of the room, playing with the collar of his shirt. Now her new favourite shirt on him and he looked darn fine in it too.
She swallowed her hormone fest, impatient and waiting as she looked around the room.
Walking to the mantel, she looked over the photos of him and his siblings. They were all so beautiful, tall, perfect. Wolfpeople. Her eyes fell on a picture of the older son. The one they called Darcy, he appeared angry and removed in most the photographs, at least against the rest of them.
Grayson walked back in, two mugs in his hands and a bag of potato chips hanging out of his mouth.
She smiled, “You look like a dog.”
He put the mugs to the coffee table and took the chip bag from his mouth, “If I'm a dog, then you, Little, are a bitch.”
Her mouth hung open with a soft smile, “That was low.”
He dropped into the couch and opened the junk food, “Revenge is sweet. Come sit.”
She walked over to the couch and sat a few feet from him.
He glanced at her, “No, I meant more in my lap.”
“I'm not sitting in your lap!” she argued.
He smiled, “Okay, calm down.”
“You weren't joking,” she shot.
Laughing, he looked around, “Where's the remote?”
She whipped it up beside her and passed it to him, “What kind of TV do you like?”
He shrugged and flipped through the guide.
She inched over to him and ate some of his chips, “Was this the date you had in mind?”
“Eating chips on my living room couch? Not really.”
“Fine,” she smirked, “What's your version of a date?”
He leaned into her and pulled her over to him, lifting her chin, “Claiming my mate.”
She stared at him, “The sick thing is you’re serious, aren’t you?”
He let her pull away, but she still stayed close. She snuggled into his side as he searched for something to watch.
She brushed her nose against the soft blue shirt and looked down his thick abdomen to the khaki dress pants and belt, “Did you put effort into this outfit?”
“I tried to look a bit dressed up, I suppose.”
It was a nice change from his graphic-shirts and blue jeans, “Had you just come into the dance when I was with Bruce?”
He growled, “Well, I was looking for Mike when I saw him grab your ass.”
She lifted her eyes from the buttons on his shirt, “Thanks for saving me, Wolfboy.”
“Saving?” he smiled. “You nailed him with your heel and I thought you were about to rip his head off.”
“Well,” she shrugged, “My dad taught me not to take much crap.”
He smirked, “I've noticed.”
She sat up, “I was sorta afraid of him though.”
“You don't need to be afraid, Chloe.” He dropped the bag of chips to the ground and pulled her over his lap, “I won't let anything bad happen to you, ever.”
She blushed and looked down to her hands on his chest.
He pushed her pelvis against him and dropped a hand to her bare calf that was bent under her, “Maybe I'm dreaming,” his fingers ran up her leg.
She swallowed, “I had a dream about you last night.”
“What was I doing?” he asked, gripping her thigh.
“Claiming me.”
He groaned, “That's what I want to do, Chloe.” He raised his hand and let her relax, taking her chin in his palm, “It's too bad you're human.”
Her stomach tightened as he pulled her in and kissed her. Enjoying his mouth and big kiss, but it made her think of being claimed. What it would feel like, if it would hurt. She swallowed and pulled back from him.
He softened his grip and let her slip off him, “Do I make you nervous?”
“Just a little.”
Leaning towards her; he gripped the couch above her head. Now, sure he gripped things around her to keep from crushing her.
Her knees parted and he looked down to her lap.
She blushed, unsure what he had been looking at.
He leaned away and grabbed her hot chocolate, “Still cold?”
“I'm alright,” taking the cup of hot coco from him, she sipped it.
He grabbed his and took a few gulping mouthfuls.
Chloe watched him, “So, do we like have to have babies, if we do this?”
He choked and spat hot chocolate down her now favourite Grayson-shirt.
Chloe snatched his mug and stood, “Your shirt's going to stain!”
He stared at her, “Babies?”
She shrugged, “I wanted to know what I'm in for. You know, what the death sentence entails,” dropping both mugs on the near coffee table, she took his hand and pulled him to his feet.
“B-but, I'm only seventeen,” he pouted.
“You should get out of this shirt,” poking at the stain as she watched it start to absorb the dark chocolate. With her luck, it could have been his only nice shirt.
Hesitating, he fumbled with the shirt buttons, “D-do you want kids, soon? Because that's not a requirement to being mates.”
“N-no. I'm good.” her heart raced, as he peeled the shirt from his shoulders, becoming sidetracked by his chest.
He sighed in relief, “Okay, cool, cause' I'm not, yeah-”
She grabbed the shirt out of his grip, “I bet you have no idea how to get a stain out of a shirt.”
He raised an eyebrow, “Uh.”
“No,” she answered for him, “You're too much of a mama's boy. Where's your laundry room?”
He pointed down the main hall.
“Kay, show me,” impatient, but she found him amusing, especially shirtless. He walked away and she followed.
“Yeah, so, we only need to mate.”
She wrinkled her nose, “Got the memo, Wolfboy.”
He grunted, stopping by a door, “Laundry room.”
She slipped by him, walking to the laundry basin and filling it with detergent.
“How do you know how to take out stains?”
“My mother is neurotic and crazy,” she dipped the shirt in the water, “And she's a clean freak on top of it.”
He came behind her as she dried her hands.
Turning, she looked over his chest and down to his pants, “Oh, you spilt it on your pants too.”
He looked down to the stain across his crotch.
“Go change,” she snapped.
“You're bossy,” he noted and walked to the dryer, where he pulled out a pair of jeans.
“Well, not here!” she squeaked. “I'll leave, put your pants in the tub when you're done,” she scurried out and back to the living room, trying her best not to think of him naked.
She grabbed her hot chocolate and sat back to her place on the couch, waiting.
A lot had changed in an hour and half. Now officially, a werewolf's mate. Presuming everything went the way Grayson hoped.
The front door opened and she spun on the couch to see Beth walk into the room, “Grayson, did you not even go?” The woman stopped in her tracks, “Chloe?”
“Hi,” she tried to smile and hold her embarrassment.
“How are you?”
Chloe shrugged, “I'm okay. You?”
Roger appeared at his wife's side, “Hello, Chloe. You two did go to the dance then?”
Before she could answer, in her nervousness, Grayson showed up; dressed, thankfully.
His mother quick to question him, “The dance wasn't fun?”
Grayson shrugged, “It was alright, like usual.”
Chloe swallowed, “It-” she walked to Grayson, “I should probably-”
“I want to talk to you,” Grayson was quick with his words, cutting right to the chase.
Chloe held back her groan and swallowed instead.
Beth smiled at her son, “Of course. What is it, Gray?”
Roger glanced between Chloe and Grayson, and then walked to the couches, “Alright.”
Grayson sat and Chloe decided sitting a few feet from him would more appropriate then right next to him.
Roger leaned back in the single recliner and waited, “What is it?”
“W-well, I know it's not,” Grayson cleared his throat, struggling.
Beth smiled, “Gray, speak.”
Chloe swallowed, shit, shit, shit. Replayed over and over in her mind.
“Chloe's my mate.” He got out.
Roger's eyes widened, “What!” The man stood, “I don't think so, Grayson! And what are you saying, that she knows!”
Grayson swallowed, “Well...”
“Grayson!” Roger roared, “This is completely inappropriate!”
“She's my mate, Dad, what did you expect I do?”
Chloe blinked, Grayson had been right, they were not accepting. She figured her Woflboy was about to have a meltdown from it.
“Grayson!” Roger shot, “You know better!”
“Chloe's my mate! I had to tell her,” he tried to explain, again.
“No,” Roger shook his head. “Grayson, this is Henry's daughter. You don't know the first thing about having a mate.”
“Really, Dad!” Grayson yelled.
It had escalated fast, Chloe being caught in the middle, now afraid of what she'd gotten herself into.
Beth stepped to Roger's side and put her hand on his shoulder, “Roger, I don't think he's...”
“This is completely inappropriate, Beth.”
Grayson stared at his father, “Well, I didn't choose this! You know that, Dad!”
Roger pointed at him, “Don't you yell at me, okay. This is a human girl and my best friend's daughter!”
Grayson stepped back, his face broken. She had to hold back her want to comfort him. If they weren't mates, like Roger believed, why did it hurt her seeing him so upset?
Beth walked to Grayson and put her hands softly to his cheeks, “Are you sure, Gray?”
“Mom, come on...” his voice was soft and quiet.
She turned and crossed her arms, “It’s true, Roger.”
Roger shook his head, “It's Henry's daughter!”
Chloe stood, desperate, “We don't have to tell him!”
Roger looked to her and smiled, “Chloe, I don't think you quite understand all this.”
Grayson growled at him and Chloe walked to his side, looping her arms around his forearm. He caved towards her, and she felt his need to protect her, love her even.
His father's face of anger began to taper to a blank but flatline state. Taking a breath, he looked about to give in, when suddenly the front door shot open.
The Alaskan winds followed in alongside a tall, dark haired man. With his chiseled jaw and angled shoulders, his features were familiar to Chloe.
Beth beamed and jumped forward at the man, “Darcy!”