Page 18 of Elusive Mate

Glancing down, his smile grew smug. “Perfection. My virginal mate” Chuckling, he moved her leg further up over his hip and thrust in again. “Well, I suppose technically, you were a virgin.”

Zenya sat up in her bed. What the hell? She’d often had erotic dreams about Lucian, which had become far more frequent since her move to the Outer Banks. Normally they ended before he thrust up into her, leaving her frustrated and wanting. But this time he’d done the deed, so to speak, and it had hurt, leaving a residual, but faint, feeling of pain in its wake. That sucked. Is that how it would be when she finally gave herself to a man? Would she ever give herself to anyone?

She groaned as she rolled out of bed. She was too young to be making sounds like that, but the dream had left her exhausted and more than just a little bit grumpy. She made her way into the bath and stood under the rainfall showerhead. Caye had apologized for the cottage not having a bathtub, but Zenya had never really been a bath kind of girl. She much preferred the large, glassed-in shower with its multiple body sprays.

Once out of the shower and dressed for work, she headed into the clinic.

“Morning, Zenya,” called Lucy, their receptionist.

“Morning, Lucy. How’s my boy this morning?” she asked of the young bobcat she’d found several days earlier.

“Yowling his head off for breakfast.”

Zenya laughed and entered her office. Lucy wasn’t wrong. Lucky, as she had named him, was sitting in his crate telling the world that he was starving. He wasn’t. He’d been hungry and dehydrated when someone left him in a box at the back door, but other than that he’d been in relatively good shape. As far as she’d been able to tell, Lucky had either fallen down a rocky crag or maybe been clipped by a motorized vehicle, but his injuries had been minor and were healing well.

“You are not starving.” The yowl changed to more of a mew as he rubbed up against the front of the crate.

She opened the crate and Lucky hopped out and up onto her desk. This had become their pattern, and she leaned down to rub her head against his. It was the way that felines who knew and liked one another greeted each other. Opening the small fridge she kept in her office, she opened the rubber food container that held the food mixture she’d made for him.

After taking care of Lucky, she placed him in the large cage the wildlife refuge people had provided to her. She told herself she was just keeping him a few days to make sure he was healthy. At that time, he would be released back to the wild.

She reached through the opening of the crate and stroked his soft fur. “You’ll be happier once you’re free, but I’m going to miss you.”

She spent the rest of the morning taking care of patients and treating herself to lunch outside the office. Sitting in one of the small bistros frequented mostly by townspeople, she groaned when she heard the phone in her pocket buzz, indicating a text message. She took a bite of her burger, wiped her hands on the napkin, and pulled the phone from her pocket.

Have you seen or heard from Lucian?

Zenya was so startled she dropped the phone as if it were a hot rock that had burned her hand.

“You okay, Zenya?” called Marge, the bistro’s owner and chef.

Zenya looked up, forcing herself to try and at least look calm. “Fine, Marge, just slippery fingers, I guess.”

Who the hell could it be? She didn’t want to respond, but chucking the phone in the ocean was probably a bit of an overkill. She walked back to the clinic—still a bit stunned and confused. What did it mean? Had she been discovered? Did she have to run? She didn’t want to. She’d begun to put down roots, to feel as if she belonged, as if she’d found a home. Someone had to know she was out there, but did they know she was here? Specifying Lucian indicated that whoever it was knew at least peripherally who she was and her situation. As she walked, she could feel her anger and resentment building. She didn’t want to run. She loved her life here—and Bryan was almost finished with her dining room table.

Maybe if I don’t answer, they’ll think they got the wrong person. That was stupid. Of course, whoever had sent it knew who they were sending it to.

She finished the day and was thankful that everything had been routine. Several times she retreated to her office to stroke Lucky’s fur. She found it soothing, and the bobcat seemed to understand she was stressed and needed his closeness.

Finally, Zenya was able to go home, where she found herself pacing back and forth. In the end she grabbed her burner phone from her nightstand and texted the emergency number.

Received text today on other phone blocked number asking if I’d heard from or seen Lucian. Please advise.

The response was almost immediate.

Pack what you can easily transport. Pick up will be at Cape Hatteras Lighthouse Within 8 hours. Take no more than 4 hours to leave your current locale. Do not drive straight to lighthouse. Good luck.

She looked around the home she had made. There was so much she wanted to take. So many things had meaning for her. Tears started to fill her eyes. She wiped them away. She didn’t have time for tears. She had made this home; she would make another. Opting to take more clothes than anything else, she nevertheless wrapped a beautiful mantle clock Liv had gifted to her in one of her sweaters. She took a few other items and then headed to the clinic.

Once inside, she grabbed a traveling crate for Lucky, placing him inside and then packed his food and the vial of antibiotics. She would release him to the wild herself, but neither of them was ready to be without the other. Securing his crate in her Jeep, she stopped at the ATM, withdrawing the maximum amount of cash, and then left town in the opposite direction she needed to go. She glanced at the clock on her dashboard—less than two hours had elapsed. She would make good use of the four hours to ensure no one was following her.

CHAPTER 8

LUCIAN

Lucian turned back to his dual monitored computer system to watch Zenya. How sad was it that he—one of the most powerful alphas on earth—was reduced to watching his fated mate from afar? Every day he told himself he would wait until she had returned home and then take her from her nest. But taking her when she was surrounded by people was problematic. Her home was cozy; there was no better way to describe it. Her cottage was light-filled, imbued with peace and happiness. Didn’t she know she could bring that to him and to their people at Ice Storm?

She was just returning home when something about the way she moved caught his attention. She didn’t move with her usual grace and fluidity. There was something slightly agitated and clumsy in the way she was moving. Lucian perked up and watched her more carefully, a slow, feral smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

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