You Are My Mate, Ever

Aileen realized she was in complete shit. She urgently needed to recover from several cocktails in which she had drowned her sadness all evening in a werewolf bar. A glass crashed into the wall next to her, beer splashed on her skin, and she shifted in her chair, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

Someone's body fell near the feet. The fallen wolf growled from the strong impact on the floor and tried to get to his feet. She stood up quickly, knocking over her chair.

She didn't want to be part of the fight, but it seemed like she was given no choice. Drunk idiots were doing their best to beat the crap out of each other. She found herself squeezed into the far corner of the bar, and the only way out would be to fight her way through the press of struggling bodies.

"Oh shit," she muttered.

From her high position, Aileen assessed the situation and was convinced that the trap had slammed shut. Two wolves got into a fight over a football game, and it soon turned into a brawl that engulfed the entire bar. At least forty wolves were involved. Several she-wolves managed to run out into the street, and she was jealous of them since she had no opportunity to follow their example.

At this moment, she bitterly regretted that she had not stayed home. She just wanted to spend the evening, angry at the blows of the bitch fate and trying to forget Mark and his so-called love with a couple of glasses of alcohol.

The two wolves grappled and wrestled, still standing. They crashed into the wall near her and tripped over a man who was still trying to lift his drunken body from the wreckage of the table. Both fell on top of him. She looked around the room desperately again, hoping that everyone would just stop fighting.

The doors remained open and she saw several unusually tall men enter the bar. They all wore the same black uniform and police riot gear. Their black helmets, body armor on their torsos, and shield-covered faces were what she had longed to see. Help has already arrived, these guys know their stuff and will quickly take control of the situation. She felt joy and relief.

She wasn't the only one who noticed the police. Several drunks, fearful of possible arrest, straightened up in the path of the entering men, and she screamed as someone fell again near her table, which could not withstand another blow and overturned. The girl tried to grab onto something - anything - but she ended up falling to the floor on her butt.

Pain shot through her spine, leaving her frozen in shock, but when someone almost stepped on her toes, she immediately came to her senses and tried to tighten her arms and knees. She desperately crawled to another table to hide under it, because, as practice had shown, being on top was not a good idea. But she never made it there.

Something large and hard landed on her back, flattening her on the floor, and knocking the air out of her lungs. It was a man, he was incredibly heavy and had no intention of getting up. Soon another body landed on top of the first, pinning her to the hard surface of the floor. Their weight was enough to make her choke.

Someone swore loudly, stumbled, slammed his heel into the girl's thigh, and fell with all his weight on her legs. She moaned in pain. But the situation became even more desperate when other men also began to stumble and fall on her.

Life was slipping away, everything around her was fading into darkness, and she had no choice but to accept her fate.

Black the Beta of the Pack was angry he just visited the bar. He looked with irritation at the men he had managed to gather in such a short time. "Don't hurt stupid drunk people. Let's just separate them and get out of here!"

None of his pack wolves wanted to be here. They would prefer to carry out their duties in the pack. Contact with people never promised anything good. The wolves were not like ordinary people, and therefore many were afraid of them. The mixed genes of humans and animals changed not only their appearance, but also made them stronger and faster, and most people could not accept someone so different.

The two drunk men closest to Black only noticed him when he grabbed them by the shoulders and pushed them away from each other. One look at the angry wolf was enough for them to run away - the fear of him was stronger than the anger and desire to continue the fight. He moved towards the next pair of fighters, squeezed between them.

"Stop!" He growled and did not hesitate to use fear as a way to free the bar.

A woman's scream came from the far end of the room, and Black's head jerked in that direction. His gaze settled on a red-haired woman standing on a table, wedged in the far corner of the room, but she suddenly fell to the floor and disappeared from his sight. The woman seemed scared.

He turned his gaze to his wolves, who were leading people outside, but it was not fast enough to reach the woman without hindrance. He looked again at the place where she had disappeared. He was taller than the people and had a better view, but he still couldn't find her in this crowd.

What does a little human woman do in the middle of a fight? He didn't know the answer to this question, but it was obvious that this whole situation was completely devoid of common sense. Human women are fragile and non-aggressive. His instincts screamed that she was in danger. He decided to save this little red-haired woman and began to make his way in that direction.

"Get out!" he growled at drunken people, grabbing them as he moved and throwing them to the sides. The little woman was still nowhere to be seen, but when he looked again at the corner where he had last seen her, he couldn't help but notice the pile of men lying on the floor.

His irritation got out of control for a second, and he used a little more force than necessary. The man he grabbed screamed in pain from his broken arm, and he growled at the drunkard before pushing him aside.

The drunkard pressed his injured hand to his chest and hobbled towards the exit, sobbing like a girl. he walked further, his gaze searching for the red-haired woman.

A few seconds later, his heightened hearing caught a quiet whimper, barely audible among the dull impacts of flesh on flesh, curses, heavy breathing, and the crash of breaking furniture. He concentrated on the area where the pile of fallen bodies lay and began to break through there.

He realized with horror that the woman was out there somewhere. She was in trouble and he wouldn't feel guilty if he hurt a few people in the search process.

He stopped at the place where he saw the red-haired woman and peered at the group of men stretched out on the floor. They fought with elbows and fists. One of them was throwing his head into the stomach of the man underneath him because he was pulling his hair.

He noticed a graceful hand, almost hidden by the bodies of the fighters. She was thin, pale, and female. A hand with a light pink shine on its nails lay motionless, palm down, near the table leg. He couldn't see a single other part of the woman's body except her forearm, wrist, and palm.

He was filled with anger. The drunken idiots fell on the woman, crushing her with their large bodies so much that only two hands. Another growl came from his throat. He bent down, without looking, grabbed the first body he came across, and threw the man aside. He flew several feet and crashed into the wall with a scream. He didn't even look at him. He grabbed the other man, threw him in a different direction, and freed the woman's leg.

After a few seconds, he finally released the woman completely and fell to his knees next to her. Her head was turned towards him, but her long red hair covered her face. When he realized that the woman was not breathing, he growled again, calling for help from his trained wolf. Slash suddenly fell to his knees opposite him. A moment later, more men came to the rescue, keeping people away from the lifeless red-haired woman.

Trying to stop the trembling in his hands, he quickly but carefully assessed the woman's condition. She had shoe marks on her buttocks, back, and thighs where men had stepped on her body. A furious growl tore through his throat. He wished he had killed those who did this to her. He was afraid that the woman had broken bones, so he turned her over with great care. Her bones were small and fragile.

He gently laid the woman on her back, estimating that she weighed about one hundred and thirty pounds and was approximately five feet four inches tall. She was wearing jeans and a pink shirt with elbow-length sleeves.

One sleeve was completely torn off as evidence that the woman was not only trampled but also wounded. Her skin was still warm. He immediately pressed his ear to her chest, did not hear her heartbeat, and let out a painful groan.

"Shit," Slash hissed, "They killed a little woman."

He stood up and felt her chest, checking for fractures, but found none. He estimated how much time had passed since he heard her whimper, and assumed that the tragedy had occurred less than a minute ago. So it's not too late. He felt the woman's ribs again, knowing that if they were broken the situation would be hopeless, but all the bones were intact.

"What the hell are you doing?" Sheriff Cooper gasped. "Touching women's tits?"

"No," Beta growled. He tore the straps holding the vest in place, tore it off himself, and gently lifted the woman's head to use the vest as a pillow.

Black ignored this dialogue to concentrate on the woman, resting her head on his vest. His heart was beating erratically, but Dr. taught him how to react correctly in such situations. Black insisted that all wolves be trained in first aid. He mentally thanked his friend and was glad that he had attended those lessons regularly, although at that moment they did not give him any pleasure.

With a trembling hand, he brushed the red hair out of the woman's face. Her human features with capricious full lips and a thin nose turned out to be very attractive. The cheek that had been pressed to the floor was a little red, but the rest of the skin was too pale. The woman was still not breathing.

He leaned lower, located the desired area, and placed his palms on her chest. He hoped that their generous size would be enough to ease the pressure on his chest and prevent bone damage. He pressed thirty times, performing chest compressions.

He tore off his shirt, crumpled it up, and put it under the woman's neck. Then he made sure her airway was clear, pinched her nose tightly, opened her jaw, and pressed his mouth to hers. He looked carefully at the woman's chest, at the creamy skin peeking out from the neckline of her pink shirt, and breathed air into her lungs. Her chest rose.

He pulled back a little, took a deep breath, covered the woman's lips with his mouth again, and exhaled another portion of air. His gaze was still focused on the neckline of the shirt, and he saw the woman's breasts expanding. He began a new cycle of chest compressions, and the small body under his hands began to twitch.

He pulled back and watched as the muscles of the pretty face began to quiver, then lowered his head to press his ear to the woman's chest and heard the heartbeat. The woman inhaled on her own and, although it sounded more like suffocation than breathing, He finally relaxed and straightened up.

He carefully examined the woman again. As she breathed, her skin color began to improve. Everything seemed to be fine, but for some reason, he hated the thought of her lying in the same place where people had almost killed her.

He leaned down and gently pulled the woman into his arms. She was as light as he had expected. He held her close to his chest and used the strength of his legs to stand up. He looked for Slash. "Grab my things. I'm going to take her out into the fresh air while we wait for the ambulance."

Black left the bar and walked around the building, desperate to get away from all these people. They were drunk and stupid, and he didn't want them to be near the one they almost killed. He brought her to one of the jeeps. Checking the temperature of the hood with his elbow, he turned sideways, laid the woman on the warm metal, resting her head on his forearm, and began to study the pretty face.

The little woman's skin color had returned to almost normal but was still a little pale. Her locks were red, curly, long, and beautiful, falling to the middle of her back, and incredibly soft. The woman moved her leg, parted her lips slightly, and sighed.

He prayed she wouldn't wake up before the ambulance arrived. The woman would see his altered features, realize he was a handsome man, and perhaps start screaming. The parking lot lights were bright, and she would have immediately noticed that the person next to her was not one of the man of her kind.

He hated it when human women ruptured his eardrums with their screams at the sight of him. Nevertheless, sometimes she reacted this way, and it drove him crazy.

The woman moved again, her head, lying on the crook of his elbow, turned slightly to the side. The woman sighed, and a pleasant fruity aroma filled his nose. Her eyes opened. He waited for her to see his facial features and start screaming.

The woman's eyes were dark green and beautiful. She looked up at the sky, blinked, and finally focused on him. It was easy to read the confusion on her face. The woman blinked again, silently continuing to look at the face bent over her.

She sighed and her gaze dropped to his bare shoulders, arms, and chest. The man shuddered internally. He forgot that he had taken off his shirt and knew that when the woman noticed his bare parts, she might think she was being sexually assaulted.

But she never screamed, instead, she did the last thing he expected-she smiled, and he swore he saw amusement flash in her green eyes.

Aileen opened her eyes and saw a myriad of stars in the dark sky. She felt as if only she woke up after a deep sleep. But she was not in her bed. She blinked and shifted her gaze to see a pair of the most striking wolf eyes. Their color, shape, and incredibly long eyelashes hypnotized her.

The shade of blue was unique and gold framed the oval pupils. She could have looked into those eyes forever, but curiosity made her examine the massive bone structure of the face, strange, with wider and higher cheekbones, but still very attractive. Before she was the most courageous man she had ever seen - handsome, bright, and at the same time stern.

His golden skin matched the mane of thick hair that framed his strong-willed face. Blonde strands alternated with red ones, and with sand-colored strands that escaped from the ponytail at the back of the head and fell onto incredibly broad shoulders. Her gaze froze for several seconds in the area of ​​the flat dark nipples.

She enjoyed the view of the wide bare chest. Brownish skin hugged well-defined muscles, and she couldn't help but notice the impressive size of her biceps. Looking down a little more, she came across a flat stomach and six-pack abs. Her heart began to beat faster and eventually began to beat wildly under her ribs. This man was magnificent - a god.

"Not god," said a quiet voice in her head. "He was created to be an angel." She frowned, trying to sort out the confusion in her head. "Does hell have its angels? Although... Wasn't Lucifer a fallen angel?"