Fletcher Tidbit

FLETCHER POV

The last week and a half has been hell, stuck in a constant stalemate with Cain’s men. Xander and Andrew are on the verge of losing their shit. I swear the pair are two fucking seconds from burning the entire world to the ground.

I love Xander like a brother, but goddess, I want to punch him right now. Walking between the tents of our men and women, a blonde pony tail I’d recognize in the pits of hell ducks past. Without thinking, Mars, my wolf, leads me to her.

Checking to see if Matt is inside, a sigh of relief escaping me when I don’t find his brooding figure within. He has barely left her side since we’ve stepped in onto the field.

‘Would you rather her be alone?’ Mars growls, reminding me that Matt isn’t as important.

‘Yeah,’ I return, ‘but does he always have to be up her ass?’ I question, salty that I haven’t been able to steal a moment of her time.

Ducking inside, I hear her sigh. “Matt, you promised to give me ten minutes.” Her shoulders tense, and I know what has her so frustrated, but whatever it is, it isn’t my business.

“Sorry, Fireball,” I return with a smirk, enjoying her wide eyes as she turns to meet my gaze. Her expression, making my thoughts drift to things they shouldn’t. Not yet, and not now. “It’s the more handsome one of us.”

“Fletch,” her voice comes out breathy, and every excuse I had shatters to dust. The reserve I have been holding onto so tightly, slipping through my grip.

Striding to her with a purpose, I grip the back of her neck and her hip with the free hand on her hip. Crashing my lips to hers, euphoria sings across my skin. Licking every inch of me. The most delicious mew coming from her, allowing me to deepen the kiss.

Our tongues mingling together, and I know if I died tomorrow in our next excursion I’d die a complete man. Whole with no regrets, having my moment with an angel walking among mere mortals.

As soon as it starts, it ends, her palms pushing me away. Taking her queue, I untangle my lips from hers, meeting the hazy and lust filled blue irises. Her question coming out in a husky whisper. “Why? Why now…?”

Grazing my finger along her cheek, my lips graze across the brow, my nostrils filling with her scent. I could bath in the cherry perfume with its spicy undertones. “If I died tomorrow, I had have to go to hell for that regret alone.”

She doesn't reply, but the wheels in her head turning, unsure of what to say. But the inner conflict and guilt are plainly written in the crease of her forehead. The brusque and brooding voice that is never far behind breaks through the moment.

“Charity?” Matt calls, standing in the opening daggers in his pitch black eyes. If looks could kill, I’d be dead. The little fireball in my arms breaking away, my cells begging for her touch again.

“Matt, I-” She tries explaining, but he doesn’t want to hear it now, dropping the tent flap and storming off. Turning to look back at me, torn on where to go and who to comfort.

“Go,” I say, through the lump in my throat. Her eyes softening, as she searches my face for any anger. “It’s okay, Fireball, seriously. Go talk to him.”

Nodding, she walks toward the exit before turning jogging back to me. Stretching on her tiptoes, she places a gentlest kiss on my cheek. Her voice sounding fluffy as the low hum of her voice is in my right ear. ”Thank you, Fletch.”

Before I tug her back into my arms, never letting her, she runs after Matt, calling after him, desperation in her voice. A sigh leaving my lips as I duck out of the tent in search of my Alpha.