Losing Control

He continued to watch her but leaned back in his seat, running his hand through his hair, confused. He knew he probably scared her on Friday night but the hostility was unnecessary, was it not? He had asked her calmly to leave. Although she didn't know the reason and he would drown in a glass of water if she did, he couldn't think of a scenario where she was offended.

His house was not huge, so he could hear her speak on the phone after reading his email. He noticed the postal truck pull up and the delivery guy hauled a huge box next to the door. Miss Hudson answered and watched as the man left the box right there. He saw her struggle to take the box inside. He had to cringe when he remembered that this was the box of clothes he had ordered for himself.

Another vehicle drove up and two young men in uniform walked up to the door and began conversing with his assistant. He strained his ears to listen to the conversation. They were looking at the mess he had made and discussing the repairs. He could hear the lilt in her voice as she laughed and the deep tone of the men in return. He could hear the admiration in their voice. The one called Max was positively interested in Miss Hudson.

As they went to do their respective jobs, the men at the door and Trina at her desk, Randall got up from his seat and paced the room for a while, processing the information he had gathered that morning.

His assistant was brave as she returned to work even though he had been potentially dangerous when they met. Maybe she didn't react to rabid animals or she was reckless, he would have to find out which. He also noted that she was diligent, hardworking, and surprisingly professional.

And apparently, she was appealing to human men.

Well, she did smell nice to him too. The appeal was just different.

Randall sighed as he got a call from his manager. He picked it up and pulled it to his ear. "Your PR package of clothes arrived. Have you checked them yet?" he asked.

Randall groaned. "Yes, it is downstairs."

"Okay. Let me know when you look through it. The marketing head of the company is an acquaintance. They want you as the brand ambassador, so they are trying to get brownie points."

This literally translated to: haul your ass and work.

"Got it," Randall responded, his voice strained. He sighed as he got up and went downstairs. There was no one in the office so he quietly entered and noticed the box behind her chair. He picked it up and was walking up the stairs when he noticed the three figures near the front door. Trina was collecting glasses from the men and he noticed how Max's finger lingered a beat too long on her hand. His face was collected and unassuming but Randall turned to watch his every move.

As Trina turned to keep the glasses in the kitchen, she flipped her hair just slightly. Max moved towards her and sniffed the air.

Trying to capture her scent.

The box in Randall's hand was promptly kept down.

'Mine.'

Like an animal marking his territory, he leaped down the stairs and reached her in an instant. He closed his mouth before entering the kitchen and although he was not assaulted by her scent, he could feel her presence in his bones.

Thump thump thump thump.

Mine mine mine mine.

He wanted to stomp his feet.

The words echoed over and over in his mind. Again, he lost all sense of control and discipline. When she saw him, she was startled.

She made a small sound when she noticed him suddenly in front of her. Aware of his mistake and in an attempt to maintain a semblance of control, he forced himself not to move quickly and watched as the glass tumbled to the ground and shattered.

"Mr. Wright! Not again. You have to stop doing that!" she reprimanded, clearly frustrated. She was taking huge breaths, trying to calm herself down.

The two men came running in, their eyes wide with concern but stopped in their tracks when they saw Randall. He glared at them for a moment, positioning his body between them and the girl, and waved them off.

As Trina regained composure, he ran his hands up his face and then clenched them in his hair. He hadn't planned ahead and now he had made a scene.

What could he say? That he rushed down the stairs to mark his territory like a fool? Even as a wolf, he didn't find this acceptable.

He stared at Trina as she calmed herself. She ignored him and leaned over to begin cleaning up the shards of broken glass on the floor.

Horror flashed through his brain as he watched her fingers near the sharp edges of the glass. The shrill sound of the phone ringing made her pause. It allowed Randall the opportunity to open his mouth and speak in the most charming voice he could muster, "Please, let me do it."

Trina froze in her position. His voice was so soft and smooth… it was almost mesmerizing. Her fingers paused in the air.

For an indignant second, she thought about how the broken glass was not her fault. She pulled herself up to look towards him, surprised to hear his voice lacking any hostility. Her first instinct had been to think that he would be upset or angry at her for making such a mess.

She found her voice, which sounded high-pitched and squeaky next to his. "Oh. Thank you for offering. But you don't need to," she said.

He nodded curtly in understanding before responding, "You're a vet. If you nick your finger, it will burn when you rub alcohol or sanitizer on your hand." He stopped. "Do you mind getting the broom from the storage closet in the kitchen?"