Page 9 of Unwilling Mate

ABIGAIL

I blinkagainst the morning sunlight. Wait a minute, I never get this kind of sunlight in my dingy attic room. It takes a moment for my vision to clear and the memories to rush back. They hit me with the heat of his mouth on my belly, the sharp sting of his nails in my hips. Even the bruises I have make me smile because they remind me of him and prove to me over and over again that he’s real, and he’s mine. At least as long as I can make sure he wants me.

Worry and fear gnaw at my gut. What if he doesn’t really want me, and it’s this weird mating vibe? I don’t understand making him touch me and kiss me? I couldn’t handle it if he left me. Not now, not after he saved me and then showed me what true peace feels like.

I cast my hand out to run it down the wide barrel of his chest, but my fingers only meet empty air. A spear of fear drives through me, and I launch myself out of bed. Where can he be? There is no civilization for miles? It’s just us out here in the woods.

I scan the covers and shake them like that might get me some kind of satisfying answer, but of course, they don’t.

No, there has to be a rational explanation for why he’s not here. Maybe I was snoring, or he’s a super early morning person. I race around the bed and grab one of his T-shirts from a clean pile on the dresser. It’s soft and worn in with a couple of tiny holes near the shoulder. I like that he doesn’t care about the little holes in his clothes. I never did either.

I slip the shirt over my head and finger comb my hair to get it in some kind of order. When I leave the bedroom, I scan every part of the cabin I can see until I’ve gone over the entire place. Nothing. Well, maybe he’ll be right back. I try to stifle my climbing panic by doing something useful like make coffee. But he’s already set the machine. All I have to do is push the button. There’s even a mug on the counter with the exact amount of sugar I like in my coffee at the bottom. See, things like this means it’s not just the mating call for him, right? A man who doesn’t care wouldn’t bother to prepare a mug of coffee for a woman?

I sigh and then pour the cup. Who am I kidding? I have zero experience with men, and I have no idea what a man in love or lust would do or wouldn’t do.

I take my cup of coffee out to the wraparound porch and smile at the early morning dappled light. The calm I’d started to build shatters when I catch sight of a naked man standing several feet from me, ankle-deep in a pile of dead leaves. He’s not as big as Thorn, nor as muscular, but he has the same leanness of build that means he might also be a shifter of some kind.

I freeze, keeping my eyes on him.

He raises his hands slowly, showing me his palms. “Don’t run. I’m not going to hurt you.”

I snort to tell him what I think of that suggestion. Isn’t that what all the bad guys say?

“I’m only here to warn you. You’re in danger. While he’s gone, you should grab your shoes and make a run for it. You might be able to get a head start if you leave now. He went down to the river and won’t be done fishing for a while.”

Fishing? Something loosens in my chest, and I can breathe again. He went fishing for lunch. Maybe he told me before, and I forgot?

“Do you hear me, sweetheart?” He raises his voice and draws out his syllables like I’m stupid because I haven’t responded to him.

I take the tiniest step back toward the still open house door, praying I can get inside and lock it before this very naked man can reach me. What would he do if he caught me?

“Don’t run, girl. If you run, I’ll have to chase you, and I don’t want to hurt you.” He keeps his hands up, even as he takes minute steps toward me, the brush crunching under his bare feet.

I stop moving and face him fully, the hot cup of coffee pressed into my chest. What can I do here? I doubt I can outrun him, and there’s no way to tell him to go the fuck away and stop ruining things for me. I hate this feeling of uselessness.

“I’ll repeat what I said in case you didn’t understand,” he says again, louder this time as if raising his voice will make me miraculously get it.

I roll my eyes and sigh. Maybe he’ll get that.

“Thorn isn’t who you think he is. He’s not some white knight who’s going to make all your dreams come true. When he’s done using you, he’ll leave you to die, and the animals will eat your corpse.”

I swallow hard. That’s graphic. I’m so confused, and now I’m curious how he knows Thorn, and even more so, what he knows about him that I don’t.

This time, when I inch backward, it’s to go grab a piece of paper, but my movement makes the naked man twitch, which in turn makes me nervous.

“I said, don’t move, sweetheart. I don’t plan on hurting you. Just stay there for a moment until I calm down, and we’ll get you packed up. I’ll take you somewhere safe. Promise.”

I don’t trust his honey-dipped promise for a second. People always make those kinds of promises when they lie. Worse, this man is naked and trespassing, apparently for my interests. I’ve never met him or seen him in my life, so how does he know me?

I pin him with a stare. It’s nothing like the hard-edged look Thorn can get when he wants his way. My mind reels. What can I do to get him to leave me alone? How do I tell him I have no intention of leaving Thorn’s side? I’m still drawing a blank when a massive shape bounds out of the woods in front of the cabin. A huge wolf with his claws extended, teeth sharp, and anger evident in his open maw. Oh, shit.

This time, there’s no one to warn me against moving closer to the open doorway. I keep my eyes on the wolf and then the naked man who shifts into a smaller, lighter brown wolf to meet him in the middle of the clearing in front of the cabin. They lock together almost in a hug, except they growl and scratch at eachother too. Shit. What if something happens to Thorn? This man will get what he came for after all.

This time, I move closer to the stairs. Can I stop this? Protect him? Keep them from fighting?

I’m saved from facing down two giant wolfs twice my size when Thorn crashes his huge paw into the other man’s face. The second wolf scrambles to his feet, leaves and dirt flying around the two of them as he rushes out of the clearing toward the river. Thorn chases after him for a couple of heartbeats but then lopes back and drops to his knees.

The shift happens mid-motion. One minute a wolf, the next, a man. Looking at him makes my heart beat faster, and my throat go tight.

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