17: Too Late to Protect Me Now

“Because you’re my mate.”

I open my mouth to respond but nothing comes out because what am I supposed to say to that, congratulations, thanks for the info, sorry your supernatural DNA picked the wrong person?

“Okay,” I finally manage, and it sounds pathetically inadequate. “And you hate that.” I’m not asking, I’m stating a fact. “You hate that your wolf chose me.”

“I never said that—”

“You didn’t have to.” I cross my arms over my chest. “I can see it every time you look at me, every time you treat me like I’m a problem you need to solve.”

“You’re not a mistake.” He runs both hands through his hair and for the first time since I’ve known him he looks completely rattled. “This situation is a mistake, you being anywhere near me is a mistake, but you’re not—”

“Then why did you follow me tonight?” I cut him off. “If I’m such a problem, if you want me gone so badly, why didn’t you just let me leave?”

“Because I CAN’T.” The words come out rough and angry. “Do you think I want to feel like this? Do you think I enjoy losing my mind every time you’re out of my sight? I’ve tried for three YEARS to stay away from you, I made your life hell hoping you’d quit, I criticized every piece of work you did, I gave you impossible deadlines and unreasonable demands, and you just kept coming back.”

I’m staring at him. “Three years?”

“I scented you the first day you walked into my office for your interview.” He’s pacing now like he can’t stand still. “Before you even sat down, before you opened your mouth, I knew you there was something to you and I’ve spent every day since then trying to make you leave.”

The words hit me like a punch. “You’ve been torturing me on purpose.”

“I was trying to save you—”

“By being cruel?” My voice is rising. “By making me hate you?”

“YES.” He stops pacing and looks at me. “If you hated me enough you’d quit, you’d find another job, you’d be safe somewhere far away from me and my world”

“That’s the most fucked up logic I’ve ever heard—”

“It’s the truth.” His hands are shaking. “I don’t want you in this world, Astrid, I don’t want you to become a target, I don’t want to watch you get hurt or killed because of me.”

“Too late.” I gesture to the bruises on my throat. “Someone already tried to kill me tonight because of you.”

“Which is exactly why you need to understand what you’re dealing with.” He crosses to a cabinet and pulls out a first aid kit. “Sit down and let me clean those bruises.”

“I said don’t touch me—”

“And I said sit down.” He’s already walking toward me with antiseptic and cotton pads. “We can argue about my terrible logic after I make sure your throat isn’t damaged.”

“I’m fine—”

“You have bruises wrapping around your neck and your voice is hoarse, you’re not fine, now sit down before I make you sit down.”

“You can’t make me do anything—”

He moves so fast I barely see it, one second he’s standing three feet away and the next he’s right in front of me with his hands on my shoulders pushing me backward until my legs hit the bed and I sit down hard.

“I’m stronger than you, faster than you, and right now I’m holding on to my control by a thread.” His voice drops lower. “So sit there and let me take care of you before I do something we’ll both regret.”

I sit because the alternative is fighting him and we both know I’d lose, and he kneels in front of me which puts his face level with mine.

“Tilt your head back.”

I do and he’s so close I can feel his breath on my skin, can smell that cedar scent mixed with something wild underneath that makes my hindbrain light up with want even though I’m still angry at him.

His fingers touch my throat and that electric spark shoots through me making me gasp, and he freezes with the cotton pad halfway to my neck.

“Did that hurt?”

“No.” My voice comes out breathier than I intended. “It’s that feeling again, when you touch me.”

“The mate bond.” His fingers resume their gentle cleaning of the bruises. “It gets stronger every time we touch, every time we’re close.”

“What is that?” I’m trying to focus on what he’s saying but his thumb is brushing against my pulse point and it’s making my heart race. “The mate bond, you keep saying that but you haven’t explained it.”

“Werewolves mate for life.” He’s not looking at me, focused on cleaning my throat with movements that are probably supposed to be casual but feel anything but. “One person that our wolf recognizes as ours, it’s biological and instinctive and completely out of our control. Every instinct I have has been screaming to protect you, claim you, keep you close ever since.”

“Claim me?” My voice comes out as a whisper. “What does that mean?”

His eyes meet mine and they’re flickering between gray and gold. “I’d bite you here—” his thumb presses against the junction where my neck meets my shoulder “—hard enough to leave a permanent scar that tells every wolf in the world you’re mine.”

The way he says mine makes heat pool low in my stomach and I have to clench my thighs together, and his eyes track the movement because of course they do.

“And then what happens?”

“Then you’d be bonded to me permanently.” He goes back to cleaning my throat but his touch is less steady now. “You’d feel what I feel, know when I’m near, sense my emotions.”

“That sounds terrifying.”

“It is.” His hand is shaking slightly where it’s pressed against my neck. “It’s also irreversible, once a wolf claims their mate there’s no going back, you’re bound together until one of you dies.”

“Is that why you’ve been pushing me away?” I’m watching his face and seeing things I never noticed before, the tension in his jaw, the way he won’t quite meet my eyes. “Because you don’t want to be bonded to me?”

“I don’t want YOU bonded to ME.” He finishes with the antiseptic and sits back on his heels but doesn’t move away. “You deserve better than being tied to someone like me for the rest of your life.”

“Someone like you?”

He stands and starts packing away the first aid kit without answering me.

“Then why did your wolf choose me?” I stand too because I can’t sit here anymore. “If I’m so wrong for you, if I’m so unsuited for your world, why me?”

“I don’t know.” He slams the first aid kit closed harder than necessary. “Fate has a sick sense of humor.”

The words land like a slap and I actually step back because it hurts more than it should, hearing him confirm that I’m just some fate joke his wolf is playing on him.

“There’s blood on your face.” I point to his cheekbone where there’s a cut seeping red.

He touches it and his fingers come away bloody. “It’s nothing.”

“That’s not nothing, it needs to be cleaned.” I grab the first aid kit from him before he can protest. “Sit down.”

“I heal faster than humans, it’ll be gone by morning—”

“Sit down, Rhys, or I’ll make you sit down.” I throw his own words back at him. “And we both know I actually can’t do that but you owe me this after everything tonight.”

Amusement flickers in his eyes and he sits on the edge of the bed.

I kneel between his legs which is probably a mistake because now we’re at eye level and he’s so close I can see the gold flecks in his gray eyes, can count his eyelashes if I wanted to.

“How did this happen?” I’m trying to focus on the cut instead of the way his hands are resting on his thighs close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from them.

“The attacker had a knife, caught me across the face when I partially shifted.”

“You shifted?” I pause with the cotton pad pressed against his cheek.

“Partially.” His hands move to my hips and I should push them away but I don’t. “Full shift takes too long when someone’s life is in danger, partial shift is faster.”

“What does that look like?”

“My eyes change color, my teeth elongate, my hands shift to claws.” His thumbs start rubbing slow circles on my hip bones through my skirt. “My face becomes more angular”

“That’s what I saw in the office.” I’m supposed to be cleaning his cut but I’m not moving anymore, just kneeling here between his legs with my hand on his face. “Your eyes were gold and your hands had claws.”

“Did it scare you?”

“Yes.” I’m being honest because lying seems pointless now. “But not as much as the man trying to kill me.”

His hands tighten on my hips. “I’m sorry you had to see that, see me like that.”

“I’m not.” The words come out before I can stop them. “You saved my life.”