Part 11
When I woke up the next morning, the werewolf
had made breakfast. Plain noodles with a
poached egg and some greens. It looked
appetizing. He eyed me cautiously, wiping his
hands nervously on his apron, giving me an
obviously placating smile.
I scoffed, leaning against the doorframe with a
cold expression. “What happened last night?”
He coughed. “My mating season started. I
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missed your scent so much. I couldn’t help
myself.”
“…Pervert!”
“I’m not a pervert!” He protested immediately.
“I’m a pure black wolf.”
“Don’t you dare talk back to me.”
He hung his head, looking. His lean waist
was cinched by the apron strings, his suit pants
outlining his…
I mentally smacked myself, banishing the
inappropriate thoughts.
“Why does your mating season require my
scent?” I asked.
“Because I like you,” he said. “I like you. I
consider you my mate, so only your scent can
soothe me during my mating season.”
This forced relationship… I suddenly got
curious. “What happens if I don’t let you near
me? What will you do during your next mating
season?”
“Then you can watch me bash my head against
a wall and die.” He looked at me mournfully. “I’ve chosen you. Only you can soothe me. No
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other person or wolf will do.”
Me: “…Do all werewolves force themselves on
people like this?”
“It’s not force,” he said earnestly. “My pack told me that no human can resist a
werewolf’s… abilities. Even if they’re already married, if they sleep with a werewolf once, they’ll definitely want to keep sleeping with them. Do you want to try sleeping with me…” “Shut up!” I interrupted him.
