“Calm down and I’ll explain.” The large naked guy held his palms up as if I was the one over fucking reacting.
“S’cuse me, are you insane?” I yelled frantically, sidestepping away from him.
Each attempt he made to try and grab hold of my arms, I spun mine in circles. It looked like some really weird kind of dance moves
“I think we’ve finally established that this is not a dream,” he patronized.
And he had the cheek to look at me as if I was the one stark raving mad.
“You kidnapped me from the guest house. You need to let me go or else you’re going to be in serious trouble buddy,” I warned, pointing a finger at him.
He dragged his hand down his face, frustrated. My eyes landed on his engorged appendage and I let out a shocked gasp.
“Oh my God! Cover your thing!” I screamed, slapping a hand over my eyes.
I heard him move and I quickly ran further away around the room. When I looked again, I saw that he’d pulled on a pair of faded jeans. I could still make out his manhood straining against the denim. I couldn’t help but notice how well endowed he was too.
“You slept next to me naked, and you don’t think that’s just a teeny tiny bit creepy, huh?” I held up my forefinger and thumb to measure an inch gap.
His brows raised as he stared at me in all his half-naked glory, chest heaving and lips slightly parted. If I had to admit it, he looked the epitome of every female fantasy. Over 6ft tall and built like a house. He was devilishly handsome, with rugged good looks, dark-blonde hair and deep, piercing blue eyes.
Oh fuck, what am I saying? Let’s not forget he’s a friggin’ psycho.
“Are you done checking me out now? Can I get a word in edgeways please?” He teased.
I flung my hands up in the air with an incredulous ‘what the actual fuck?’ look playing on my face.
“Humour me, asshole. I’ve had a night from hell and this is the big fat cherry on top of my shit sundae,” I spat.
“Interesting choice of words. Can I talk now?” He pointed at himself, then at me. “You came along last night and almost ran me over.” He jabbed his finger at me.
“You and your careless driving...and terrible singing by the way. My Chemical Romance, seriously?” He canted his head to one side, narrowing his eyes in mock pity.
I stared open-mouthed, struggling to believe the audacity of the arrogant asshole. I opened my mouth to speak and he cut me off.
“Wait. I’m not done here,” his voice held an indignant tone as if he felt like the injured party, “and to top it off. It turns out that you’re my mate. The woman who almost mowed me down, turned out to be my fuckin’ mate. I could scent it all over you. I ran all the way to that guest house and pulled all the glow plugs out of your car.” He produced them from inside the pocket of his jeans. “Here, you want them back?” He yelled, then threw them onto the bed.
He’d sabotaged my fucking car!
I hadn’t realized that I’d frozen rigid. My initial thought was that he was one of those escaped patients from a mental institution. I glanced around for a phone to call 911.
“It’s OK,” I soothed. “I’m going to call someone who can help you. Because you need professional help, honey.” I raised up my palms as I tried to edge towards the door. “Hey, no harm was done here. Do you have anyone I can call? A family member, a social worker, psychologist?” I asked, desperately trying to maintain a calm façade.
He ran his fingers through his hair and blew out a forced breath.
“Har, fucking har har, very funny! Are you done?” His patience began to wane.
Shit. I’ve made him mad.
I cringed. “Look, maybe we just got off on the wrong foot here. Just point me in the direction of the road and I’ll be out of your way. I’ll send you compensation for the trauma I caused. My family is loaded, so just name your price,” I tried to resolve the situation the only way I knew how- with money.
His expression morphed into a deeply offended scowl.
“I don’t want your money, I want company. You’re my mate. You’re supposed to be made for me. Don’t you feel it?” He asked, searching my eyes desperately.
I shrugged. ”I’m not blind. You’re attractive, I’ll give you that much.”
I didn’t know what else he expected me to say but the more time I took to fully appreciate him, the more I wanted to unravel the mystery. Be it my over-sexed hormones or genuine curiosity, I was intrigued.
“So give me a chance. Let me explain what I am. All I’m asking for is a month... then if you think it’s not working out, you can leave and I promise to let you. With no hard feelings.” He begged.
“I am supposed to start work tomorrow. My mom thinks I need to learn to be more self-sufficient or else I’ll be disinherited.” I sighed.
I saw the world come to an end in his eyes, forcing him to do what he did next... he begged.
“Please,” he asked again.
I pinched the bridge of my nose and squeezed my eyes shut, giving it some thought. This was crazy. Scratch that, this was completely fucking insane. For all I knew he could’ve been an ax murderer. But then would a mentally deranged psychopath beg me to date him for a month?
How many mentally deranged psychopaths have you actually met, Riley? Yeah, that’s right, none.
My gut twisted in knots, worrying about if’s, but’s and maybe’s.
Do I run along home to where my dull, boring life awaits me or do I take a chance for once and do something reckless?
“I can’t believe I’m saying this. I must be as insane as you. But fine. You got a month,” I replied.
His face filled with shock, having been expecting me to turn him down flat. “Really?”
I crossed my arms in front of me in a defensive pose, still unsure in case I’d just made a colossal mistake. There was still the opportunity to run if he turned out to be a nut job. He had ten seconds left to prove me wrong, then I was out of here.
“So go ahead. What are you? Better still, who the hell are you?” I asked for shits and giggles.
He relaxed, exhaling with a relieved smile. ” My name is Axel Thorne, and I’m a bear shifter.”
My eyes rounded, setting firmly in a hardened glare. “S’cuse me, you’re a what?” I asked, thinking he was taking the piss.
He looked so matter of fact as he spoke, not even the hint of a smirk danced across his lips. Either he had the perfect poker face or he actually believed in what he was saying.
“I’m a bear shifter, that means I can turn into a bear. It was me you almost killed and turned into a rug out on the road last night,” he explained, as a matter of fact.
I scrunched my face, eyeing him with skepticism. “You’re a bear. Like an actual bear?”
Warning bells started ringing throughout my head and I began edging closer and closer towards the bedroom door.
He exhaled, exasperated. “No. I’m a fucking unicorn. Of course, I’m a bear. You need me to prove it?”
I nodded, calling his bluff. He could’ve been in the same place at the same time for all I knew, running away from whatever institution he escaped from.
He pulled open his jeans and shucked them off. I may have had a sly look at his cock. It was pretty large and hard to miss.
I then jumped back, startled as his body started to morph into something else before my eyes.