Pretty Angel: Chosen Book 5

by J. D. Light

  I'd unintentionally hurt him, and I didn't know what to do. I'd never really learned to fix hurt feelings before. My relationship experience was a big fat zero. I'd barely even kissed someone.

  I wasn't virginal. Far from it, actually. I was actually pretty ashamed of my sexual history now that I'd found my mate.

  But relationships had never come into it. And you didn't need to kiss someone to fuck them with their face pressed to the wall or the mattress.

  Deciding to leave it for the day, I sat back down, ignoring a teasing Bennett, who was trying to get my attention.

  I'd let Rory get away with it for the day, but I was going to clear this little issue up. He would know how precious he was to me. And how perfect.

  ***

  Like a stalker, I waited outside the diner, hiding among the trees on the backside of the parking lot, while Rory got in one of the crappiest cars I'd ever seen and started the thing up. I was banking on it coughing out its last death rattle and falling apart right there in the parking lot, but amazingly, the thing roared to life.

  Running along the woods in human form, as fast as I was going, could potentially be dangerous if anyone saw me, but I was pretty good at staying hidden.

  A few blocks down the road, Rory pulled into the grocery store parking lot, getting out and looking around quickly, before dropping his head and walking inside.

  I waited patiently for him, while he got whatever it was that he needed and came back outside. I frowned at the tiny bag in his hand. Whatever was in there, looked like barely enough food to feed a toddler, more less a full-grown man.

  Maybe he had food at home, and just thought of something he needed to finish whatever he was making.

  I needed to find where he was living. I'd scoured the internet for anything I could find on a Rory Stevens, but the only information that matched was a birth record from eighteen years ago, and a shot record on the same child until the age of six. Beyond that, Rory Stevens didn't exist.

  I knew there were plenty of people who paid their rent in cash and landlords who dealt in paper instead of digitally, but the only people who really owned anything to rent around here, were all leap members, and not one of them had rented to the guy.

  Trust me, I'd spent as much time as possible looking and asking.

  Using the trees to follow him again, I only had to cross the road once, when he had to turn right, taking him down the deserted, dead-end road teens used to use as a hangout to have drunken parties at.

  That had ended the day one of the local girls had gotten a little too drunk and fell in the river, drowning.

  Rory pulled to a stop just in front of what remained of the old fallen down bridge. When he got out, pulling the bag from earlier out with him, he walked around to the hood of the car and climbed up, reclining against the windshield, and pulling out what looked like a can of ravioli, a bottle of water and a plastic fork.

  He ate quietly, sighing occasionally, and looking around at the beauty that was a grown-up, deserted old bridge.

  When he finished, he dropped the can and spoon back in the bag and walked back to his car, leaving it in the passenger seat, and then getting in the back and pulling out a small black bag, a towel and some neatly folded clothing.

  Was he going to take a bath in the river?

  A knot of dread settled in my belly, as reasons as to why he would be doing that, popped into my head.

  Was my precious, Pretty Angel homeless?

  Looking around again, just like outside of the grocery store, Rory eased down the wreckage of the bridge until the thing ended along the bank of the river.

  I knew I shouldn't watch. He had no idea I was there, but as he pulled the old, slightly ragged t-shirt over his head, exposing his long, lean back to me, my eyes were riveted. I couldn't have turned around if threatened with blindness.

  He reached in front of himself, clearly undoing his pants, as he toed off his shoes, before he slid the denim down, exposing the sweetest, most perfect ass in creation. Smooth, white, bitable globes, that literally had me on the verge of coming, just from the sight.

  Feeling like an absolute perv, I fished my cock out of my pants, groaning as the air stroked the over sensitive tip. I clamped down on the base, needed to stave off my impending orgasm.

  Once Rory rid himself of his pants and socks, he walked into the water, shampoo and conditioner bottle in hand, along with what looked like a soap caddie, his beautiful skin almost glowing with its porcelain smoothness. The water was probably fairly warm, given the heat, but probably nothing like an actual shower or bath.

  He wasted little time, placing his bathing items on a large rock, before submerging himself in the water, and dunking his head beneath the surface.

  He washed his body first, rubbing the bar of soap in all the placed I was desperate to touch. To taste. By the time he dunked back under water to rinse his body, I was a panting mess, where I leaned against the base of a tree.

  Watching him wash his hair was mesmerizing, his long fingers massaging his scalp, as his slightly muscled arms flexed.

  I wanted to see the front of him in a bad way. I needed to see his no doubt beautiful body.

  When he came back up out of the water after rinsing the shampoo from his hair, I noticed the long dark strands were reaching the middle of his back.

  He had such beautiful hair.

  When he pulled it forward to apply the conditioner to the ends, exposing his long, smooth neck, I growled, remembering last second to keep it low and quiet.

  But fuck I wanted to mark that lovely skin.

  My hand started to move of its own volition, making me gasp from the delicious friction while watching my beautiful mate.

  Rory's hands released his hair, moving to his neck, where he lightly massaged the muscles there with the tips of his fingers. When his fingers started skimming down his body, he let his head drop back, making his long hair gently stroke the tops of his ass cheeks.

  Something I wanted to do with my tongue.

  I couldn't see exactly what he was doing to his front from this angle, but when it looked like he brushed over a nipple, I heard him gasp, and then moan.

  I moaned too, already feeling the tingle shooting up and down my spine.

  Moving further down, my mate latched on to his dick, giving it one, long, smooth stroke. "Oh fuck."

  His sweet, melodic voice. I had almost lost it earlier when he'd said my name. Now, in his ecstasy, I knew I was about to blow.

  After a few more languid strokes, Rory let out a low keen, throwing his head back. "Green!"

  My name. He'd said my name. It hadn't been loud, barely above a strangled whisper, but I'd definitely, and clearly heard it.

  I shot off, hard, biting down on my cheek until it bled to keep from being heard, as the most incredible ecstasy of my life had me stumbling against the trunk of a big tree.

  Breathing hard, I tried desperately to get myself together, but my body was the consistency of hot maple syrup. My legs shook, and my heart raced.

  You'd have thought I'd run a marathon with the way my body was trying to implode in on itself, but in reality, I couldn't have even stroked myself more than a dozen times.

  I looked back over at my mate, while my limbs solidified again. Rory, also clearly shaken, stood braced against the huge rock he'd put his stuff on, giving me his profile.

  His beautiful dick still stood out from his body, clearly not softening yet. His lean, pale body looked almost posed, as he bent forward, holding himself up with the help of that rock.

  If it weren't such a pervy, stalker thing to do, I'd take a picture of the gorgeous man, as he was right then.

  He was perfection. And he was mine.

  When he'd finally managed to get himself together, he slid beneath the water, rinsing the conditioner from his hair, as I put myself away, and rearranged my clothing.

  Once he was finished, he stood again, turning to gather his things and then again to make his way out of the water. When
he got to his clothes and things on the bank, he neatly tucked his shampoo, conditioner and soap back into his little black bag and grabbed the towel, drying first his face, and then his legs.

  It wasn't until he'd worked his way up his body, when he, again drew his hair over his shoulder, so he could use the towel to squeeze the water out of his hair, that I finally saw his body on complete display.

  Definite perfection.

  From his long, beautifully shaped legs, to his small, lean hips and thin waist. He didn't have a carved out eight-pack, which I was more than happy about. What he did have was a sexy little V and a small groove traveling up the center of his abs, looking like the perfect place for my tongue. I loved his lightly muscled arms, thin but defined. And the slight swell of his pecs. I could only see one, tightly beaded nipple, but it was small and a pretty pink that would turn red if I rubbed my scruffy chin against it.

  I gasped, and nearly lost my legs again, when he flipped his hair back over his left shoulder, exposing the skin over his heart. The skin that held a distinctive mark.

  I don't know how long I stood there, shock holding my body still as he hung the towel on a low hanging branch, and dressed in a thin t-shirt and sweats, slipping his sandy feet into a pair of old flip-flops, and gathering all his stuff.

  My mate was chosen.

  Just being my mate made him the most precious being on earth to me. The mate to my soul. But he was also precious to the shifter community. A gift that only came along every few centuries.

  I could feel how dumb the smile on my face looked, and could only be happy Bennett wasn't around to witness it, because it wasn't coming off, no matter how hard I tried.

  I watched my mate all night, not wanting anything to happen to the man that was given to me. Only a highly forgiving god would give such a precious gift to a moron like me. I had to believe he saw something in me that I didn't. But I was going to thank him every chance I got.

  ***

  The next morning, after watching my mate get up and get ready for work, and then climb back in his car and head to the diner, I ran back home, showered and changed, and still made it to the diner in time for Bunny to open the front doors with a knowing smile.

  "I guess you came to fix the mess you made of things yesterday?" She asked with a hand on her hip as I passed through the open door.

  "I guess I'm going to have to be a bit clearer."

  Behind me, Flynn laughed, shaking his head. "Even if you think you are being clear, be clearer. Or you'll end up wanting to claw your own brain out."

  "I heard that, Flynn!" Ridley's head was poking out of the order window, and he was holding a knife again.

  "Ridley, what did I say about the knives?" Flynn's voice was far from the stern, almost terrifying one he used on his wayward leap members.

  "I'm not walking around! I'm just standing here, cutting up veggies for omelets, listening to my mate attack my listening skills. Mud is clearer than you sometimes."

  "He used to be shy," Flynn said, shaking his head.

  "No he didn't." Bennett walked in, followed closely by Ronny and Arry. "He was just a bumbling idiot around you. Not having the ability to form words is not the same as shy."

  "Still holding a knife." Ridley sing-songed, batting his eyes at his best friend.

  Foster stumbled in, still yawning and rubbing his face. Looking at the seat between Ronny and Bennett, the fox glared at the blonde, and moved across the table, clearly not wanting to be too close to the smirking leopard.

  "Late night, Foster?"

  "Mind your business, Bennett." But the fox was wearing a crooked smile that spoke of far too much fun.

  Rory suddenly appeared around the corner, completely obliterating my ability to hear any part of the conversation being had around me at that point.

  I'd literally seen him thirty minutes before, but he still managed to steal my breath.

  "Round of coffees?" He smiled slightly, making me sigh like a dramatic teenage girl.

  At everyone's emphatic yes, he smiled again and headed to the drink station.

  I jumped up, again following the guy like a creeper.

  I grabbed his arm, just as he was reaching for his second coffee cup, spinning him so I could see his beautiful blue eyes. "I need to talk to you. Now."

  Before he could respond, I started dragging him to the bathroom, making him squeak. "Green! What are you doing?"

  I flipped on the light, pulling him through the door and then shutting and locking it. Pushing him up against the wall just inside the door, I grabbed his hip, and barred his way with my other arm beside his head.

  "I need you to listen to me for a minute. Can you do that?"

  His eyes were wide, and seemed surprised, but he didn't smell scared. He nodded, licking his lips. I could smell the sweet tang of his arousal start to blossom, slowly around us.

  I watched his mouth, nearly salivating at the idea of tasting it. I was already hard, and I couldn’t help myself when I leaned my body forward, pressing my hardness against his stomach.

  He gasped, his eyes sliding to half-mast.

  "I need you to know I wasn't making fun of you yesterday."

  His eyes met mine, and I could see the confusion right there. "Then what? Why keep calling me…that?"

  "Because. That's the way I see you." When he just scoffed and looked down, I grabbed his chin with the hand I'd had braced on the wall, and pulled his face back up, so his eyes could meet mine. "You are the most beautiful man I've ever seen in my entire life. And the first time I saw you, I thought you looked just like what I've always imagined an angel to look like."

  Frowning even harder, he tried to look away, but I was still holding his face. "Why would you even say that? What's the point?" When a tear slid down his scarred cheek, I couldn't even think of stopping myself from leaning forward a licking it.

  He gasped, eyes going wide, before closing completely, as a moan grew in his throat.

  "I mean it. Every word," I whispered against his brow bone.

  "But I saw the way you looked at me that day I came in for an application. You were disgusted by me."

  "Never!" I pulled back, letting my hand move around to cup the side of his face. "I was angry that someone, or something, had clearly hurt you. That you'd had to go through the pain this must have caused."

  I caressed the scarred side of his face again, making him shudder.

  After a long while of Rory just standing there, staring at me and blinking repeatedly, I asked, "Do you believe me, Pretty Angel?"

  "I don't…I have no…maybe?" He searched my face with a discerning frown on his own. "It doesn't really make sense, but at the same time, I can't think of what you could possibly have to gain from this."

  "Can I kiss you, Pretty Angel?"

  Rory gasped, his eyes getting impossibly wider. "You want to kiss me?" Groaning, he slammed his eyes shut. "You do know I'm a guy, right?"

  I chuckled, making him open his eyes again. "Of course I know you're a guy. You're definitely beautiful enough to be a girl, but any moron can see you're all man. And thank goodness for that. I'm strictly dickly."

  My sweet angel giggled. My mouth dropped open. I made my mate giggle.

  "Wow," I whispered reverently. "If I didn't think you were an angel before, that beautiful sound would have convinced me."

  Shaking his head, but still smiling, Rory finally reached up and touched the side of my face. "This can't be real. Stuff like this never happens to me."

  "About that kiss."

  The smile fell from his precious face, and he moved his hand over to the scar running through his lips, distorting them slightly. "I've never kissed anyone. I'll probably be really bad at it."

  "I seriously doubt that." I really hoped he'd say yes, because without my permission, my body was leaning more fully into him. And my mouth was inches from his, breathing in his alluring scent.

  "Okay."

  For a white boy, his lips were plump and soft against mine. His scar,
which I knew he had been worried about, drew me in. It sank in, making me unable to stop my tongue from coming out and dipping in and tracing it, before following the seam of his lips.

  He opened for me, and the taste of his mouth was a burst of the most erotic flavor. Who knew a flavor could be erotic. Immediately, my ball started drawing up tight, and I knew it would take about a thrust and a half for my dick to erupt, right there.

  He moaned, flicking his tongue along mine like he was trying to taste me too. When his hips rolled forward, I felt his dick drag against my thigh, and my pretty angel keened into my mouth.

  I couldn't keep from pinning him to the wall with my hips and inserting a thigh between his legs. My body was now in charge.

  With my cock trapped between us, and my precious mate riding my thigh slowly, the friction had my orgasm building fast.

  The door opened. I stilled my mate, pulling back slightly, to growl at whoever was intruding on the most erotic moment of my entire life, not wanting anyone to see Rory in ecstasy, but me.

  "Sorry to interrupt, Green. If you're tasting your mate, you're probably seconds away from blowing a hole in your jeans, but Burke and Sutt just came in saying there were some men out in the parking lot sniffing around, and one stopped them to ask about your boy. Bennett said wolves."

  "Wolves?"

  I turned to my mate, just noticing how completely still he'd gotten. His already pale face was white, and I could feel the panic rising in him.

  "Pretty Angel?" I grabbed both sides of his face, forcing him to look at me. "What's wrong? Breathe."

  "I have to go. I can't…They'll take me back. I can't go back, Green. I have to go." His body was shaking, and his eyes wouldn't focus. My mate was about to have a full-blown meltdown.

  "Here, close your eyes, guys." Foster was taking the lid off of some bottle, and when I closed my eyes, like he said, I felt something light, like powder, hit my exposed skin, and the smell of flowers assaulted my nose, almost blocking out the scent of my mate.

  "What the hell?"

  "It's a crushed up flower. The same flower that I used to always make Sutton and Burke use in their fabric softener. It blocks a person's scent almost completely." Foster handed me the rest of the bottle, and then turned to look out the bathroom door.