39: Realistic

Celeste's POV

'He gazed down at her, a possession in his eyes and in his hold. His hand on her hip pulled her further towards him at the end of the bed while his other stroked his-' 

I gulped, slamming the book shut. For a moment, I was silent. Then, a squeal left me as I dropped the book to the floor. Josh walked over, closing his own book and simultaneously sipping from his cup of hot chocolate. His eyes fell to the book not far from me. "I didn't like that one." 

My eyes widened, darting up to him. "You read this?" He shrugged, plopping himself down into one of the bean bags in the pack house library room. I pushed myself up from the cushion I was sitting on. "Is this-"

"I don't think it's too realistic. It mentions her 'heaving heavy boobs' several times and refers to him having a 'monstrously thick member.'" 

"So in real life. . ." He gives me a mischievous smirk and I feel my skin heat up, my cheeks surely turning red. 

"In real life," he says in a teasing voice, "dicks are different sizes. But no dick will ever split you open." He snickers. I feel my eyes widen further at his crude words. "See, I thought you and Xavier might be in that weird limbo."

"What do you mean?" Xavier's been. . . Xavier. One minute I find myself beneath him, so sure and steady in bed. He's slightly demanding of certain things. I like it. A lot. I put a hand to my cheek; definitely red. But then the next minute I'll find him locked in his office until late hours, going back over paperwork he already went over. Looking over training reports and plannings, crossing things out and writing new words in the margins. And then he's sweet to me when he finds me watching him. He'll walk the pack grounds with me, wrapping an arm around me to keep warm. And then next he's back to that slighting demanding man in bed. A bed I have returned to every night since my heat ended. . . Only going to my room during the day time for lesson reviews or a nap after my training. Training that I am skipping right now. . . 

He took my hand in his, patting slowly, "I know you're sleeping in his room these days." I open my mouth several times over, no words leaving my lips. "But you don't smell like you've had sex with him yet."

"What?" My voice was a squeak, barely even audible to my own ears. 

"When wolves do the mattress mambo, their scents combine ever so slightly." 

"They do?" He nods. 

"Wow, they really taught you nothing in the woods, did they?" I glare at him and he chuckles, raising his hands in a defensive manner. "Sorry." 

"I thought that didn't happen until they mark each other?" 

He shrugs. "Eh, I've heard that but from like. . older people. Who assume one will wait for their mate and want the whole mating process checked off in one go." 

I nod. "Xavier," I started, the words scrambled in my head. "Xavier is kind. He'll wait until I'm. . ready," I said slowly. "But I don't think I'm ready for-for-" I gestured to the book on the floor in front of me. 

"You'll know when you're ready, Celeste." His tone had turned kind, his hand squeezing mine. 

"Did you?" His smile falters for a moment, a dark look crossing his features. 

"The first time I wanted to be with someone, I-"

"With Jacob?" The words had fallen out of my mouth. I slapped my hand over my lips, not meaning to have said it. He blinked several times. "Josh, I'm so sorry -- I didn't mean-"

"So you do know?" I said nothing this time, biting my lip. "I thought you might." He lets go of my hand, running a hand over his face. I'm surprised to see a smile peak out beneath his fingertips. 

"Is that-is that okay?" He inhales loudly, dropping his hand to his lap. "I promise I won't tell anyone!" His shoulders start to shake. "Josh?" Laughter bubbles over his lips, filling the otherwise quiet room. 

"Yes, Celeste. The first time I wanted to be with Jacob, I couldn't. I mean, I probably could have. But I was scared." He doesn't elaborate and I don't ask, already feeling like I've pushed too much today. "And when I wasn't anymore. . And we did. . I knew in my gut." He lets out a laugh. "I think my excited enthusiasm probably really threw him off, compared to all my previous attitudes."

"Was it. . Nice?"

He scoffs, "Nice? Celeste, the man is a beast. He was gentle the first time but he couldn't hold himself back." I felt the blush growing down my neck. "And I liked it. More than liked it. It only got better from there." I nodded. "Do you like whatever you and Xavier are doing right now?"

I shot my eyes to his. "We're not-"

"Hey, I thought we were being honest right now." He gives me a pout. I exhale a breath through my nose. 

I look around the room, confirming what I already knew; that we were alone. "I really like it," I mumble. 

"That's good!" He nudges my foot with his. "He's your mate. He'll take care of you."

"Do you feel taken care of? By Jacob?" He gives me a smirk, evil gross thoughts hiding behind his eyes. I shudder, "Ew, ew. I take back my question." He lets out a laugh that fills the room. Eventually, I join him, his laughter contagious. 

"Wait," I interrupt our shared moment. "If he's your mate then how come you two aren't public?"

He swirls the hot chocolate, less than full, in its cup. "Because," he takes a sip of the sweet beverage. "We're not mates." My brows furrow. "I'm mateless, Celeste."

"What do you mean?" He sets his drink down, scooting off the bean bag and pushing himself closer to me. He turns his back to me, grabbing his lengthy hair and moving it away from the back of his neck. There, beneath his hairline, is a circle of scarred flesh. As he flexes his neck I could've sworn it had a goldish hue to it. There's raised flesh within the circled scar, slightly pale in color. Two inward curved lines reflect back on each other on opposite sides of the scar. Additionally, a small line lays between the reflection, outward dashes of opposite direction on either end. A slanted slash goes through the middle of the line. It looks wrong on his body, the marking. Werewolves don't often scar and its existence churns something in my stomach. A feeling of pity and concern wash over me. "Josh. . ." My hands reach out before falling back to my side.

"The condition," he says, turning back to me, "is called 'Ighd'mour.'" The word sounds strange and yet familiar in a way I can't quite explain. "It comes from the old language. It translates in several ways, depending on who you ask. Empty. Loveless. Mateless. It happens, this scar appears, when one loses their fated mate before their paths can properly cross. The Goddess was kind to give us mates but not so kind as to make sure we all stay alive for our mates."

"So you never met your mate? They just. . died?"

"He did die." He casts his eyes away, his jaw clenching. "But I did meet him."

"Wait, then-"

"I was young when it happened. I met him but I didn't know he was my mate at the time. He knew. And he confided in the wrong person, for many things. In the end, he was killed. I was told it was an accident, I had already begun to grow close to him, but I knew better. What I do know is that one day I was walking around my pack with my mom when a horrible pain took over me. So horrible, I blacked out. My mom said I was screaming for hours, crying even in my sleep. She saw the mark appear and the healer who took care of me told us what it meant. What had happened to me. It wasn't until the next day that I was told what happened to him; and that I put the pieces together. He was my mate. He was killed."

"Josh. . . I'm so sorry. . ."

"What's done is done," he dismissed. He pushed himself back, propped up with his hands holding him from behind his back. "Besides, I'm happy with Jacob." A smile makes its way to his lips again, goofy and full of love. "And he's great in bed."

"Josh!" I throw a pillow from beside me at him. He grabs it as it hurls towards his face, popping out from behind it with a bout of laughter. He throws the pillow back at me. It hits me square in the chest and I fall from my position on my cushion with an 'oof.'

"Sorry, Celeste!" He pulls me up from the floor back to my seated position. "Sorry!" I push his hands away, giving him a playful glare as I let out a dramatic huff. 

My eyes trailed back to the book. "How did you know when you were ready? Like how? When?"

"You'll know, Celeste."

"But how?"

"Celeste. . . Maybe if you're so busy looking for a sign, from your mind your body the universe. Maybe you're already ready. And you're just being too in your head to realize it." I let his words linger in the air. Too in my head to realize it. . . Maybe. . . 

Josh pushes himself up from the floor. I bite my lip, aware of him walking towards the bookshelves but still too stuck in my head to do anything. "Yes!" I spin around, seeing Josh grab a book off the shelf. "Oh! And this one for sure! Mmmm maybe this one, Xavier seems like he could be the kinky type." Kinky? He comes back over to me, handing me three books. "I think these will give you a better reference." I raise a brow, hesitantly taking them from him. "These two," he taps on two of them, "are realistic and sweet. Reminds me of you two. This one," he taps the third, a devious smile growing on his face, "is what I bet Xavier is like in bed." 

"Josh!" My entire face is red now. I pull the books away from him as laughter escapes his lips once again. 

"Read it and tell me if I'm right. I'll win twenty bucks from Zay if I am!" I throw another pillow at him. He dodges it with his knee. "Okay, okay! It might be okay for you to skip a day of training but unlike your man, my man will kick my ass if I don't go at least part of the day." I nod, looking back at the cover of the books. Two of them have couples embraced in some way, holding the other. One in a kiss while the other is just a passionate hug. The third, however, only depicts a woman. Her hair is layed around her but a hand rests over her throat, her own hand on top of it. "And Celeste." I look up at him, already with a hand on the door. "Can you not tell Xavier?" I furrow my brows. "Or anyone? About Jacob and I?" I hesitate before I nod. But I do nod. "Thank you." The door handle turns in his hand as his smile turns smaller but somehow more genuine than the big ones I often see on his face. "You're a really good friend."