Page 10 of Protected By Her Mate

Learning Charlie’s family history makes my chest ache in a way I haven’t felt since my parents were killed during the Human-Shifter War. I can see the love Charlie’s family feels for one another in each picture they share on social media. The beaming faces as the entire tribe attends birthday parties, graduations, weddings.

It’s the thought of those pictures that finally halts my wolf in his tracks. The thought of such a beautiful multi-generational family destroyed. ASHRA flashes through my mind and panic hits me so hard, I lose my footing and nearly slide off a window ledge.

Charlie is investigating the fire, which very much looks like it was set by ASHRA. For better or worse, Charlie is the mate of a shifter. She doesn’t know it, and if I have my way, she never will.

If ASHRA finds out who she is while she’s investigating them, things could get very dangerous for her.

The yearning my wolf feels for our mate is too much for me, and despite the reasons to stay away from her, I pick up her scent once more, following it to her building where I pad down the fire escape to the third floor.

Carefully, I peer over the window ledge and into an apartment. A quick glance tells me I’ve got the right one. Pictures of her family line every wall and shelf. My nose is never wrong.

An excited shout draws my attention “Mom!” I watch with interest as a human child barrels through the living room so fast, he’s practically a blur.

Charlie comes out of the kitchen, rubbing her hands on a dish cloth as the child cannons into her, pushing her back a few steps. She drops the cloth and catches him, her dimples flashing as she laughs, hugging him tight. “Luke!”

The child takes a few steps back, holding up what looks like a toy helicopter. Thanks to my excellent hearing, I catch every word of his excited chatter.

“… Amber’s dad flew the same one in California doing search and rescue during the fires last fall. I’m gonna fly one someday too… “

After a few minutes of patient listening, Charlie interrupts her son. “Have you had your bath?”

Luke wrinkles his nose. “Uncle Jorje says baths are for babies, that grownups take showers.”

Snorting, Charlie says, “Oh yeah? Maybe you should ask your uncle what his hot tub is if it’s not a giant bathtub.” With one hand on his back, Charlie guides Luke to the washroom. “You can take a shower if you want, but make sure you check the temperature before going in and you have to be careful to stand on the mat or you might fall. I’ll show you.”

“I’m not gonna fall….” The rest of his words are cut off as the door swings shut.

Sighing, I sit on my furry ass and wait for them to emerge.

This is bad.

I know it, yet I’m helpless against it. My mate, the person I’ve been pining over for the better part of seven hundred years, is only a few dozen feet away from me.

In ancient times, I would have had every right to bust through the window, gather her up and take her away to my den. But I’m not, nor have I ever been, at the mercy of my instincts.

Among my brothers, I have the most control over my wolf.

Or so I thought.

For some reason, I’m having a difficult time dealing with him. I’ve never had to leash him the way I’ve seen my brothers leash theirs. Now that I’ve found my mate, my wolf is determined to be heard.

The sound of the bathroom door opening again has me turning to peek through the window. I hope the shadows are enough to cover my big furry wolf face as I peer in at Charlie. She’s smiling and gently shaking her head as she snatches up the fallen dish cloth from the floor and tosses it in the direction of the kitchen.

She then collapses onto her couch, the back of it to the window where I can see her head and shoulders. The sound of the shower pattering in the background tells me the child is still washing.

Charlie leans forward and picks up a tablet. I straighten, pushing myself up as high in the window as I can to see what she’s looking at. My vision is much better than a human’s and I’m able to make out a series of photos that she quickly flicks through.

It’s the scene of our fire.

Flip, flip, flip.

She rejects them as quickly as they appear on her screen. What’s she looking for?

Then she stops, taps the screen and blows up a picture and stares at it. After a minute, she enlarges it more, tilting her head as she examines it.

Even through the window, I hear her gasp as she leaps off the couch, sending the tablet flying.

I drop below the window line where she won’t see me, and peek over the ledge. She’s not looking at the window though. Instead, she reaches for her purse, pulling a wallet out and rifling through it. When she finds what she’s looking for, a small white card, she sets it down and taps the digits into her phone.

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