5 I DO NOT HAVE A GIRLFRIEND

She woke up at exactly six. Dianne's eyelids gradually opened to reveal dazed green orbs which casually roamed around the unfamiliar surroundings. She got up, stretching languidly.

It took a few seconds for her to remember where she was. She had slept over at Tristan's place. They had talked well into the night, and because it was so late he had suggested she spend the night. He had insisted in fact when she politely refused.

Dianne looked down at the oversized shirt and shorts she had on, she had slept in his clothes. The house was quiet, it seemed Tristan wasn't up yet.

She laid back in bed, thinking about the day before. Dianne was still a bit worried about what Tristan would do now that he knew everything. He seemed nice and amicable, but Dianne inexplicably got the feeling that whatever was on the surface wasn't actually the real him. There was a ruthlessness in his eyes that didn't match his outward appearance.

About an hour later, Dianne emerged from the guest room clad in yesterday's clothes.

"Leaving already?"

She stopped short, turning from the front door she had been about to open. She had been quiet, how had he heard her?

But then her mind went completely blank when she noticed he was lacking a shirt. Want rippled through her entire being finally pooling at the base of her stomach.

His clothes did not do justice to what was underneath.

Her eyes roved, caressing every inch of exposed skin. Dianne's attention shifted to the bullet scar on the left side of his chest. The scar so prominent she didn't notice the other small ones riddling his torso. It tugged at her heartstrings to see so beautiful a body marred with scars.

The air shifted.

Although subtle, Tristan could still tell. He could tell the exact moment she saw his scars. The atmosphere changed, fraught with deep emotion.

Tristan cursed his habit of going shirtless. The pain he saw in her eyes ate at him. Though he didn't know why he should feel like that, when his scars had never been a cause for shame. Yet he felt ashamed now, to be the reason for her glistening eyes.

He felt a small featherlike touch on his chest, as though afraid pressing any harder would hurt him. He grabbed Dianne's hand, placing it firmly on his chest, right on top of the scar.

"How did you get your scars?"

He stared at her, clearly not planning to answer her question.

Dianne tried to calm her emotions. The thought of possibly losing him before she had even met him tore at her heart. Brows furrowed, Dianne wondered why on earth a university lecturer would have bullet scar.

"Professor, whatever we talked about yesterday cannot be made known to anyone." She said in what she hoped was a stern voice.

"The part about you being a werewolf?" A brow arched. "If I hadn't seen it for myself, even I wouldn't believe werewolves existed."

Dianne nodded satisfied with his answer.

"So what happens next?"

He didn't stop her as she snatched her hand from his, lowering her eyes.

"We both pretend the last few days never occured." She said quietly.

"That's where you're wrong."

How could she think that they could just dismiss the events that had happened? Dismiss the soul shattering kiss they'd shared, dismiss the fact that he'd strangely found himself wanting to see her on those few days she had been avoiding him, and he also couldn't dismiss the fact that he- who couldn't recall ever being jealous, had felt like pummeling that guy who had just been laughing with his Dianne. And that there was another problem in itself, the fact that he seemed to have started referring to her as his.

His Dianne.

Even as his student, quiet and trying very hard to go unnoticed, he had noticed her. There was something dignified about her, almost regal but not quite. There was also something wild. He wondered why he never saw her with anyone, she was always alone. Did it have something to do with her being a werewolf? He made it a point to ask her later.

"There definitely will not be any pretending nothing has happened."

Dianne looked up surprised, "Meaning?"

He didn't explain, instead choosing to ask another question. "When are you going back to the packhouse?"

His question made her stop. Never, if it were really up to her. She was miserable there, she knew, but that wasn't the only reason.

She felt. . . an outsider, like she didn't belong. A pack was characterised by unity, a sense of togetherness. Of course not every member got along with the other, but there was that affinity. It was something she had never felt, experienced. More than once, she had found herself wondering if she were really a member of the pack, but then shrugging it off as she should never have had the thought in the first place.

Which she shouldn't have had.

It had felt like a disrespect to her parents who had died fighting for that very same pack. "Mid-semeter break," she uttered.

He noticed the reluctance on her face. It seemed she wasn't too keen on returning. "And how long before you speak to this council about me?"

"You want me to speak to the council about you?" She asked, bewildered.

Why on earth would he want that, she had thought he would appreciate the fact that she would pretend everything never happened, and they'd both go back to life the way it was before. But it seemed he had other plans.

She hadn't noticed when he'd stepped closer but now she was all too aware of him, aware of the sprinkle of tiny hairs above his mouth, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, aware of the way her heart stopped completely and then began on all too fast crescendo.

"Do you not have to inform them about having a human mate?"

"That's only if we're going to pursue a relationship. . ." She stared at him, "Are we going to pursue a relationship?" Dianne asked, a little unsure. Could it be what all this was about?

"Pursue," he laughed. "You're mine already little wolf."

She stared at him, mouth agape, unable to believe what he had said. Yet at the same time trying to push down the intense feeling of pleasure at having him refer to her as his, when she should be feeling displeased at him calling her little wolf.

But then she remembered the reason why they could never be together, never be real mates, never look at each other and know they were going to wake up next to each other for the rest of their lives.

Refocusing she gave him a hard stare. "We both know any kind of relationship between us is impossible. Apart from the fact that you have a girlfriend, I'm not the type of girl you'd want" Anyone would want, she added inwardly.

He arched a brow, " Let me be the judge of that. And as for me being in a relationship, I can assure you that you're wrong. I do not have a girlfriend."

He and that girl were no longer together? For months now she had tormented herself with thoughts of them together, thoughts of them kissing passionately, thoughts of them doing things she would never get to do with her mate.

Then a thought occured to her.

Could she be the reason they were no longer together? Could she have jeopardized their relationship- the one thing she had promised herself not to do, by kissing him.

Dianne felt sick.

She should never have gone to his office that day. She should have known she wouldn't be able to control herself, especially when in heat. So what had made her?

Strong hands gripped her tense shoulders, causing Dianne to relax. He must've sensed her chaotic emotions.

"I think that's enough, let's eat."

Half an hour later, Dianne could scarcely believe she was sitting next to her mate, calmly having breakfast, the same mate who had seemed so far out of reach just weeks ago. Yet here she was.

She didn't know whether going to his office that day had been right or wrong, but what she did know was that things would never be the same again.