Stranger

2

Jude

I was going to kill that fucking asshole.

The thought pounded through my head in rhythm with the bike’s engine as I drove down Main Street, hyper-aware of the girl pressed against my back. She was shaking from cold or shock or both, and my wolf was losing its goddamn mind.

Mate,The word echoed through every cell. Protect. Keep. MATE.

I gritted my teeth and focused on not crashing.

I’d only come back to Highland Creek for Christmas because my mother had guilt-tripped me. One week with the family. Instead, I’d walked out to escape another dinner argument when my wolf caught her scent and I’d run straight into another pack mocking a crying girl in the snow.

The punch had been instinct. The need to protect her, to get her away from them, to make sure she was safe—that had been instinct too.

The mate bond had hit me like lightning. This girl, this stranger whose name I didn’t even know yet, was mine. The one person in the entire world meant for me.

And she had no idea.

I pulled up in front of Jack’s Tavern, the only bar in Highland Creek open on Christmas Eve. Jack was a pack member, and his bar was safe.

“We’re here,” I said, killing the engine.

She climbed off with shaky movements. Her lips were tinged blue. My jacket hung off her shoulders and I could see she was curvy beneath it all—soft and perfect.

Mate. Perfect mate.

Down, boy. Not the time.

I led her inside. Jack looked up from behind the bar, his scarred face creasing into a frown.

“Didn’t expect to see you tonight,” he said and added young alpha through the mindlink.

“Change of plans.” I guided her to a booth in the back. “Coffee? And food.”

Jack’s eyes flicked between us, taking in her tear-stained face and my protective stance. “Sure thing.”

She slid into the booth and I sat across from her. For the first time, I got a good look at my mate.

She was beautiful.

It wasn’t just the bond talking. She had brown hair that fell in waves past her shoulders, currently tangled and damp with snow. Blue eyes that were red-rimmed from crying. Full lips that were currently pressed into a thin line. Warm brown skin that made me think of summer despite the winter outside.

And curves. God, the curves. Soft and generous and perfect for holding, for—

Stop. Jesus Christ, get your head together, Winters.

“What’s your name?” I asked softly.

“Rosie.” Her voice was hoarse. “Rosie Martinez.”

“Rosie.” I tested it out, let it roll over my tongue. Perfect. Of course it was. “I’m Jude. Jude Winters.”

We sat in silence before Jack silently delivered coffee and she wrapped her hands around the mug.

I could hear her heartbeat, still too fast, and smell the salt of her tears under the borrowed scent of my jacket. My wolf whined, desperate to comfort her. To claim her. To make sure she never felt this kind of pain again.

Patience, I told it firmly. She needs time.

“If you don’t mind me asking, can you tell me what happened?” I asked.

She laughed humorlessly. “My boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—it was all a bet. Three months of dating, all just entertainment. And the video...”

“The video?”

“They recorded us. Having sex. My first time.” She stared into her coffee. “Posted it online.”

White-hot rage flooded through me. I felt my canines extend slightly and gripped the table edge, forcing my wolf back.

Kill him, my wolf snarled. Go back and kill him.

Later, I promised. After that, we take care of our mate.

“Where do you go to school?” I managed, through clenched teeth.

“Silverwestern.” She laughed bitterly. “By tomorrow, everyone there will know.”

“Stop.” My voice came out rougher than intended.

She looked up, startled.

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” I said, alpha tone bleeding through. “He’s the worthless one. Not you.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I know you didn’t deserve what happened tonight. I know you’re brave as hell. And I know that guy was a fucking idiot.”

Her eyes filled with fresh tears. “Why are you being nice to me?”

Because you’re mine. Because my soul recognizes yours.

“Because someone should be,” I said instead.

She broke then. Really broke. Tears streamed down her face as she hunched over her coffee, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

I moved without thinking, sliding to her side of the booth and pulling her against my chest. She stiffened—then collapsed into me, crying so hard I thought she might break apart

“I’ve got you,” I murmured, stroking her hair. It was softer than I’d imagined, damp from the snow and smelling like vanilla and something sweet. “You’re safe.”

My wolf was purring—a sound meant to comfort mates. I couldn’t quite stop it, but she didn’t seem to notice. She just cried and cried.

I didn’t move. Just held my mate through it all. Eventually, her sobs slowed. She pulled back, wiping her face. “Sorry. I got your shirt all wet.”

“Don’t care.”

She looked up at me and something shifted in her expression—awareness of how close we were. How my arm was still around her shoulders. The way I was looking at her.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“Don’t thank me yet.” I checked my phone. It was nearly midnight. “It’s late. Do you have somewhere to stay?”

“I... no. I was supposed to stay at the lodge with Josh.” Her face twisted.

“Most places are closed for Christmas Eve.” I hesitated. “Look, I know you don’t know me, but I can get us a room at the Winter Pine Inn. Two beds,” I added quickly. “I just don’t want you alone tonight.”

She studied me for a long moment. “You’re either genuinely kind or a serial killer.”

“Definitely the first one.”

“That’s what a serial killer would say.”

Despite everything, I grinned. “Fair point. But Jack here has known me since I was a kid. Jack—am I a serial killer?”

“Nope,” Jack called from the bar.

“See? Certified non-murderer.” I waited. “What do you say?”

She took a deep breath. “Okay. But if you try anything—”

“I won’t. I swear.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

The Winter Pine Inn was two blocks away. I checked us in while she waited, then led her upstairs to a room with a queen size bed, that was what was available.

“Bathroom’s there if you need it,” I said.

But she was already kicking off her boots and crawling into the nearest bed, still wearing my jacket and wrapped in the comforter. Within seconds, her breathing evened out.

I stood there watching her breathe, fighting every instinct that told me to climb in next to her.

Instead, I grabbed the spare blanket and settled into the chair by the window, knowing I wouldn’t sleep.

The bond was already forming—I could feel it, a golden thread connecting us, fragile but growing stronger.

She was my mate.

But in the morning, she was gone.