Female ✔️

6: hold my hand again

He's holding my hand. Jack. His name is Jack, he's the one who took my hand and started guiding me through the trees one cloudy afternoon. My bare feet, they begrudgingly allowed me to leave the house with, silent on the fallen needles of pines and stepped over the dry, dead twigs. They had forced me into some scratchy pants that itched between my knees when they brushed each other by accident. The sweater is very soft. I like this sweater.

I kind of like this action too, this male holding my hand like he doesn't want to let go. Maybe, I don't either. It feels nice to be anchored to something.

Nice, but trapping. 

At first I had growled at him and yanked away, but he just took my hand again, as if my reaction were nothing to him but a fly on his shoulder. My teeth have no affect on him anymore.

His hands, larger than mine by a lot, are gentle in a way I have never seen from a male. Jack wants to hold my hand so he does. No strings attached, just a guide to somewhere we have to go.

It was a battle at first, both of us trying to lead the other until I realized I didn't know where we were headed, so now I let him tow me along as I take in the scenery.

I won't get over these trees, huge and fragrant. The powerful pine, reminding me of the Alpha. Not my old Alpha, but Alpha John.

"What are you thinking about, Montana?"

"These trees."

"Beautiful aren't they? We used to pick handfuls of the needles and put them in burlap sacks. We would hang them around the packhouse in the fall, oh it would smell so good in there. I loved it." I like watching his eyes and mouth when he speaks, he has a tendency to get excited, his emotions slipping up.

"Do you still do that, Jack?" Names and words still feel funky on my tongue, this weird taste. I don't think I have talked this much my whole life. I guess I have a lot to say.

"Not in a long time." He looks a little sad by this, as if the burlap sacks of pine needles are a thing of the past and only the past. Like my mate.

"Have you ever kissed a female, Jack?"

His dark brows furrow inwards, I still have trouble reading human expressions. I test the air instead, the hint of surprise and shock is in the air, perfumy. "Opposed to a male?" He laughs.

My cheeks heat up and I feel my nose wrinkle, glaring up at him, lip lifted in a half of a snarl.

"Calm down, wolf." He laughs gently.

"I have a name."

"Montana." His smile is very pleasant, no teeth. "I have kissed a female."

We continue our walk through the forest, I'm stepping over little rocks and sticks as to keep the peace while the young male to my left kicks every stone in his path, sending them soaring into the underbrush. I think of Blu for the first time today, think of all the females he has taken to bed. All of them to spite me. His mate. It makes me feel sick, my stomach in knots. I swallow the sore scratchiness of my throat, push down the thoughts of that disgusting male.

"What is it like?" I finally ask.  

"To kiss?" He glances over me and I smell that subtle honey flavor of surprise. "Oh, Tana. Tell me you have kissed someone before!"