Page 6 of Protected By Her Mate

I jump, startled, and turn around to stare up at Lennox, who’s hovering over me. A shudder of vulnerability washes through me and I shuffle further away from him.

A flash of annoyance twists his expression, but his face quickly smooths.

“Yes,” I tell him. “I found the source of the fire.”

“And?”

I push myself off the floor, ignoring his hand as he tries to assist me. “Let’s talk outside.”

He follows me out where I drag my mask off and run a hand through my hair to fluff it.

When he follows suit, I suck in a breath. My god, Lennox Wolven-North is a god!

His chiseled jaw with a day’s growth of bristles that are darker than the dirty blond hair on his head. His blue eyes are the colour of lake water on a cloudy day when the waves are all dark and choppy. His suit is meant to define his body, molding to his biceps and thighs.

Glancing down, I note his feet are huge, then, before I can stop them, my eyes drift up his legs to check and see if something else is huge. It is. Clearing my throat, I tell him, “We can’t talk here.”

A frown wrinkles his brow and I think he’s going to argue with me, demand to know what I found. Instead, he says, “Your place or mine?”

Chapter 2

Jackboot

LENNOX

Charlie Lopez smells like smoke. And other things. I give the air a sniff. Hair spray. Tea… English Breakfast. Strawberry jam. Toast. Daisies.

I glance at her from the corner of my eye. Her delicate fingers are curved confidently around the steering wheel as she navigates New York traffic. I’d taken a cab to the crime scene. She offered me a ride when she found out.

My mate.

She’s so beautiful it almost hurts to look at her.

Her hair is black except for the fringe of her bangs, which is dyed blue. She’s short but has more than enough curves to fill my hands… if I wanted my hands filled. Which I do not.

Or that’s what I have to tell myself because my palms itch to fill themselves, my mouth waters at the mere thought of a taste.

It’s the mating call.

But I’m old enough, smart enough, seasoned enough, not to give into instinct. Or at least, it’s what I used to believe. That if I ever found my mate, I would be able to resist her charms. I don’t have a choice. If I don’t, she'll die.

We make our way to Charlie’s office, a windowless room tucked into a small corner of the West Brooklyn Fire Hall.

“Sorry about the mess,” she says as she puts her shoulder into the door, shoving it past some boxes blocking the way.

“You just move in?” I ask, stepping over several files spilling from the top of a box.

“No,” she replies, clutching a metal cup with a sticker of a fire engine on the side. “Just bad at filing.”

I pick out her desk in the mess, a picture of a dark-haired boy catching my attention. “Yours?” I nod at the picture.

Her face softens and a dimple teases her cheek as she flashes a quick smile. “Yup, that’s Luke.”

I try not to sound like my entire existence depends on her next answer as I ask, “And his father?”

She gives me a look that tells me we don’t know each other well enough for these kinds of questions, but answers anyway. “Died in a fire three years ago.”

That explains why my mate puts herself in harm’s way to investigate fires. I’ll have to find a way to remove her from her dangerous job while keeping my distance from her.

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