The Golden One

Should We Start With Introductions?

I don't speak, instead I raise my hand to pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration. A pounding behind my eyes takes me by surprise.

Great, a headache already and I've been awake for a fucking hour.

In my head I repeat a mantra I've just created to stop me biting back at every little thing Christopher says or does.

This is really hard for him.
Keep the situation calm.
Be the bigger person.

"Should we start with introductions?" I keep a level tone, softening my expression.

He shrugs back at me like a petty child.

For fucks sake.

This is really hard for him.
Keep the situation calm.
Be the bigger person.

I cough.

"I'm Meila." He nods. I withhold another eye roll. "You are..." I start him off but he just stares at my feet. I sigh, feeling defeated. A sting starts in my eyes and a lump forms in my throat. Why does it have to be so difficult? I blink ferociously trying to stop the tears from falling.

Why was I so close to tears? Anger? Frustration? Heartbreak? Probably all of them and more.

Still blinking back tears, I turn my head and watch the fire dance. I really didn't know why I was getting upset, I'm not normally one to cry.

I feel his eyes on me as he seems to realise that this is hard for me too. My skin tingles under his gaze causing some of the hairs on my arms to rise. I feel a tickle come over my heart and I bite down hard on my lip to distract myself from this strange feeling. All this from a look?

"Christopher." I jump at the sound of his deep and melodic voice. "My name is Christopher."

When I turn to look at him his demeanour has completely changed again. He is now leaning forward, elbows on his knees with his hands clasped between his legs. His brow is furrowed in concern, gorgeous green eyes staring right at me.

Acknowledging how his gaze affects me, how I feel his pain and sadness and how my skin has a constant tingle in his presence, I let how a deep sigh. He is my mate. I may not feel it in the overwhelming sense that he does but there is no denying a connection. A connection I haven't felt with anyone before, not even Michael.

At the realisation I match his pose but hang my head, allowing a solitary tear fall to the ground.

He reacts while the tear is still falling, dropping to his knees right in front of me reaching for my hands in comfort. I sniff, looking at his hands in mine. A perfect fit. Of course. Warmth travels through me from my fingers to my heart and it literally skips a beat.

Well fuck.

"Meila?" His voice is soft and gentle. I sniff at the sound of my name coming from his lips. My name has never sounded better. Not even in the middle of steamy, hot shower sex- my favourite- with Michael. My thoughts wonder to what it would sound like if Christopher said it during—

Well fuck again.

We've been in each other's presence less than half an hour in total and my body's reaction has gone from excruciating pain to wanting him to pounce on me now and scream out my name. De-fucking-lightful.

His index finger softly presses under my chin guiding my face up and my eye line to his.

"I'm sorry." His glassy green eyes are filled with sincerity. He takes both his hands and brushes stray golden locks of hair behind my ears then cups my face, staring deep into my eyes. Little bolts of electricity spring through my skin and travel down to my stomach which is now acting like a gymnast during her floor routine at the Olympics.