Chapter 8: Irritation is an understatement
Damon
I massaged my forehead as a sigh escaped my lips. To say that I was pissed off would be an understatement. My cheek still hurts till now from the force of my mate’s slap.
My mate.
No woman has ever slapped me before, till this morning.
Granted, I deserved it for scenting her without permission. I hadn’t even realized I did that until after my ear rang from the slap, and the bewildered expression on her face made me realize that the slap had been impulsive.
Of course she didn’t apologize. Despite appearing shocked and a little panicked, she refused to apologize for doing that and instead, she gave me a firm warning to never touch her again.
Thinking about her right now was making my head start to pound all over again and I groaned a little as I threw the pen on the table and slumped back in my chair. I was in the pack’s office, I had a lot of things to do today, but I’ve been unable to get anything done today.
I could feel my wolf within me, whining for our mate, but I pointedly ignored him because the slap our mate gave us this morning was a reminder that she hated us.
And how dare she hate me? A whole me.
Someone of her caliber is supposed to be kissing the ground my brothers and I walk on for accepting her as our mate.
She was supposed to be feeling extremely grateful for that because it is a privilege to be accepted by wolves of our caliber. But instead, the wildcat actually hated us and would certainly still try to run away if given the chance.