Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 73170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
I’m strong. I’m confident. I don’t take shit, and I don’t suffer fools. And I figured it was one of the reasons Fate matched us. Because he needs someone strong, someone who won’t just run away in fear of his demons, who won’t easily give up on him. But this mate of mine is frustrating the shit out of me.
I should go home tonight. Sleep in my own bed. See how everything feels in the morning.
Yeah. I think that’s exactly what I need to do.
18
JARED
It’s been hours since she left. I can’t settle myself down. When I realized I couldn’t feel her in my chest, I couldn’t relax. So, I paced. I paced inside that bunker until it felt like I’d come close to using up all the oxygen in that small space. I went outside and found her clothes, so I knew she’d shifted and gone for a run. Because normal shifters need a run to clear their head, so I’ve heard.
But it’s been hours. Two, maybe three. And not being able to feel the connection to her in my chest after how upset she was is fucking with me. After just a couple of days of it being there and feeling strange and out-of-place it now feels wrong that I’ve got no sense of it.
And it’s been raining all night. Torrential downpour shit. So much that the floor just inside the bunker doors is soaked with half an inch of water.
Along with feeling wrong that I can’t feel her presence in my chest, I crave her scent.
There’s a big difference between the active scent of someone close by and the scent lingering where they’ve been. And not having her close has me feeling like I’m in the wrong skin. The blood in my veins even feels wrong right now.
Fuck it.
I don’t know how far she ran or how hard it’ll be to pick up her scent. With the amount of rain relentlessly pounding the ground out there, there won’t be tracks. But there’s no other option for me. I need to find her. Feel her presence in my chest, fill my senses with her scent.
***
It’s easier than I expected to find her.
Because I’m supposed to find her. And it rocks me straight down to my unstable foundation.
Despite the rain and the mud, it was a clear trail to where she is and where she is … it’s where I need to be.
It’s in the Arcana Falls village.
And now that I smell her nearby, I also feel her in my chest.
Maybe she went home because she’s done dealing with me and my bullshit.
I find myself standing outside the gas station. She’s here. But the place is closed, and all the lights are off.
Whoever is watching the footage of the surveillance cameras here might be tweaked at the sight of me. A guy running in a pair of shorts and sneakers with a muzzle on his idiot face.
Then again, anyone who would be watching would know what’s going on with me. My mate is here on the edge of the village, so I suspect as long as I don’t shift and go deeper into their town they won’t have to take me out as a potential threat.
She’s in the level above the store. There’s a small parking lot here so it’s all crystal clear now. Linc parked my trailer here, she asked questions he didn’t answer to her satisfaction, so the little brat got nosy.
I move to the back of the building where there’s a door. It’s unlocked. I open it to a small entryway and a flight of stairs. And this pisses me off. I know for a fact by the scents that this is her home. I sure hope that upstairs door is locked. There’s a table with a basket holding some mail. Hooks on the wall holding hoodies, a jean jacket, and a leather jacket. A shoe rack filled with her shoes. Flip flops. Sneakers. Two pairs of high heeled shoes.
My erect dick cramps painfully with a vision of her long, shapely legs, a pair of these on her feet.
I’m ready to snap when I get to the top and find the top door also unlocked. Yeah, there’s surveillance outside, but it’s also the gateway to the village, making her the most vulnerable to outsiders.
I’m not prepared for what I see when I open the door. Also not remotely ready for how it makes me feel.
It’s reminiscent of the dollhouse my father built my sister. But every inch of it smells like Cicely.
It’s ultra-feminine, as if a Barbie doll lives here. There are more throw cushions than a furniture store all over a sectional pink couch that takes up most of the living space. The little kitchen looks like it came out of a magazine from the fifties with a rounded fridge, antique stove, and purple countertop. Fucking purple. There’s a small diner-style studded table and chairs set done in pale pink. In the middle of it sits a flowering plant in a sparkled gold vase. The space is spotless. And full of colorful or sparkled accessories.