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As much as I hate it, I wonder what my brothers are doing. Do they think of me? Do they wonder what happened to me?
They were away from home when it all went down. They weren’t there when my father kicked me out. They weren’t there when he disowned me because I disgusted and disappointed him. I picture his face on the last day. His fury, even if misplaced, killed me.
I worshiped my father most of my life. He was big and gruff. I didn’t get hugs or affection from him, but it didn’t matter because that’s what my brothers were for. My mother was timid and quiet. She would hug me and tell me she loved me. But that stopped when my dad yelled at her to stop babying me. My brothers didn’t get the same treatment, he allowed them to have some physical touch from her. I was supposed to lead, and I was held to a higher standard in his eyes.
Why did I worship him?
I thought that was what a dad should act like. I thought that was what a man should act like. He was supposed to be tough. Work hard and take care of the family. Be a man. The only emotion you were allowed to express was confidence. Men don’t cry or show weakness of any kind. We treat woman as someone who needs to be taken care of, not treated as equals. When the rules of how a man should act are drilled into your head every day of your life, you believe them. Most of the time I just pretended to believe all the crap he spewed, especially when I got older. The only time I would break those rules was with mytwo younger brothers. With them I felt free and loved for who I really was deep inside.
I tried to shield them as much as possible.
In the hierarchy of cheetah pride, the oldest son would be the one to take over the Alpha spot, which is much like all other shifter packs. Of course, you had to prove yourself. I had to be better than any other. We had weekly fights within the pack. The winners would move up in the pack and also in the Alpha’s mind. I may not have been muscle upon muscle, but I made up for it by being fast and smart.
My dad was so proud until he wasn’t anymore.
In the early days, a couple years after I was forced to leave, I checked on my brothers. I tracked down Draden, who hadn’t left the area where we grew up, and found him in a bar. When he didn’t seem to be heartbroken at my absence, I left him to his fun without showing myself. I’m glad that they are out in the world instead of stuck in our Dad’s expectations. I never revealed myself. I have covered my tracks as much as I can.
The one thing I wouldn’t be able to handle is seeing my brothers’ disappointment. I don’t think I could deal well with that.
I realize I am going to have to deal with my issues. Everything changed now. I didn’t see Saylor coming, but I can’t imagine giving her up.To humans, our bond would seem weird. Being attached so quickly to another is abnormal. Only shifters understand the pull to a mate. The absolute loyalty to another person. We look human and act human, but our animals are just under the surface. We talk to them. We love them as a separate entity, yet we are one. When one of us dies, we both die. We cannot go on without the other. Not many can relate to that level of love.
When we meet our mate, it is exactly the same. If Saylor got hurt or died, I would follow. I wouldn’t be able to go on withouther. Everything about her draws me in. Her scent. Her beauty. Her soul. Her heat. Her heart.
I look towards the bedroom. I hear her heartbeat. I sense her conflicts. I feel her need for a home.
I want to be her home.
I slowly get to my feet, determined.
I will be everything she needs me to be. I will be selfish and keep her, even though I know I am not a good man. Keep her safe. Loved. Happy.
If she will let me. If she denies me, I won’t be able to live in this world without her.
I wake to moans and a hot body curled over my side. Saylor’s soft breasts are pressed against my bare chest, her hard nipples lighting rubbing. Her leg is thrown over mine, the heat from her pussy burning my skin.
I slowly open my eyes to the early morning sun bathing us. Her long hair is tangled around my arm, helping to secure her to me. I flex my hand resting on her hip, causing her to wiggle closer.
Fuck, I’ve been trying to be a good cheetah.
This shit is not helping.
I’ve wanted to bury my cock inside her ever since I scented her. As her mate, it is my responsibility to ease her suffering (and pleasure), but I don’t want to rush her into something she will regret.
Her head twitches, and her lips graze my chest.
“Elijah,” she sighs.
“Right here, Kitty Cat,” I rumble.
“I…” she trails off.
“Can I help you, Saylor?” I know she doesn’t want to ask.
“Can I help you, too?” she asks and boldly runs her finger down my extremely hard cock.
I hiss. “Fuck, why would I turn that down?” I nudge her with my shoulder, encouraging her to sit up, and gently remove her hand from me. Her forehead wrinkles. “I have something in mind.” I want to ask her questions about her experience, I would hate to scare her with my needs, and I don’t want to ruin the moment. I want her to see no one but me. Of course, I don’t want to think about her time with other men—it pisses me off. “How many partners have you had?” I choke on the words.
“One,” she admits.
