Mate Me, Keep Me

by Angelique Voisen

  “Is that supposed to be some kind of compromise?”

  Pat released me abruptly and for a moment, I feel lost, without his familiar comforting bulk against my back. “I’ll see you at eight, Jacob.”

  Chapter Two

  Jacob

  Outside his front door, I take a couple of seconds to regain my breathing. Pressing one hand against the door, I wondered if Pat went back to whatever he did during the morning, or could it be he was standing there, watching me through the peep hole?

  One thin piece of wood separated us. Pat could easily use his claws to turn the door to splinters to reach me, yet he stood his ground, respecting my space. I gripped the doorknob, having second thoughts. Hell, I could practically hear Pat breathing behind it. Shaking my head, I let go and took several steps back.

  Walking to the elevator seemed harder than I thought. Once the doors closed behind me, I slumped against the wall.

  “He knows I’ll be back and I know it too. What’s the point of all this?” I muttered, aware talking to myself isn’t a good sign.

  I’d never been attracted to anyone this much before, maybe it’s a normal thing, or that’s just what I tell myself. During the ride down, I encountered more building residents and guests doing the walk of shame. I wondered if any of them could tell I didn’t belong here. The more distance I placed between Pat and me, the more it became clear we’re unmatched and ill-suited in many ways.

  I took the bus back to the motel, mood sober. Shrugging off Pat’s massive but warm coat, I sat on the edge of the bed bug ridden bed, and kicked off Pat’s sneakers. Peeling wallpaper, musty smelling rooms and roach ridden bathrooms—that had been what awaited me, while I traveled restlessly from one place to the next after being discharged from the army. Too ashamed to go home, I kept at it, taking odd jobs from bartending, to cook, to rent boy.

  Blowing out a breath, I checked my disposable phone, not surprised to see messages from my older brother, Rick.

  Tears blurred in my eyes. “Don’t you dare, not now.”

  I rubbed at the corner of my eyes, refusing to open the trap, but I click on Rick’s message. A weight settled in my insides. More smiling, happy people stared back at me, taunting me. Rick’s kids looked older. My parents like they hadn’t aged at all. They put up the same tree they bought in a garage sale years ago, strung with the same ornaments Mom collected over the years.

  “Fuck.”

  Rick and his family went back home for Christmas, along with my younger sister, Hailey, who had gotten married a few months before and was expecting. Reminders everyone moved on without me, while I remained stuck at the crossroads. What did I have? All my belongings fit in one duffel bag. Nightmares of my brief stint in the desert haunted me at night. Strangely, with Pat beside me, I had my first peaceful sleep in a long time.

  Wish you were here, Rick said at the end of the barrage of photo messages. Putting sentimentality aside, I knew nothing awaited me there, only my dad’s disapproval and my mom’s unbearable kindness. I put the phone away and curled myself on the bed. I could be in Pat’s apartment if I chose, settled next to him in his bed. Pat might not be entirely sane, but at least I wouldn’t be lonely. No, that wasn’t exactly right. Jack’s death broke Pat, and the war broke me.

  “Both perfect for each other,” I said to the empty room.

  Nothing was wrong with Pat, but perhaps I’m the one that needed fixing. I slept for a bit. Plagued by the same nightmares, I woke up, body covered in a sheen of sweat. Funny how dreams of the desert didn’t plague me last night, with Pat beside me. I went out for a drink and a bite to eat instead, before heading back to the room. It took me five minutes to pack my things. All this while, I wondered what Pat was up to. Did he think of me as much as my thoughts revolved around him?

  I checked the clock on the bedside table, needing to squint at the broken face—six-thirty in evening and plenty of time for me to get ready. Deciding to take a shower, I groaned as freezing water cascaded down my body. My hand eventually found my dick. Leaning my forehead against the tiles, I thought of Pat, holding my dick captive.

  A stranger I met the night before last shouldn’t be capable of stringing my body like an instrument, like he knew I belonged to him all along. I imagined his callused fingers sliding up and down, his thumb flicking away my pre-cum, his movement alternating between fast and slow. Not hard to picture Pat’s face, intense gaze watching my every reaction. His lips slamming against mine, silencing my pleas as he continued to deny and tease. Cheeks flushing, glad of the privacy, I let my imagination run free.

  “Let me hear it, Jacob.” I hear his words clearly in my head.

  “Please, I’m so close to bursting, ” I begged, but he only let me until he was satisfied. Then he spun me around, trapping me between the wall and him with his massive body. Pat slid his dick up and down the curve of my buttocks, waiting for me to beg again. “I want your cock in me, Pat. Please.”

  Once I did, he took me fast and hard, knowing how I wanted it.

  Please. The word came so easily to me, especially when it came to Pat, a man worthy of taming me, and sending me on my knees. Letting out a shuddering cry, I emptied my balls, coating the tiles with my cum. It left me feeling empty after, and far from satisfied. I wanted the real thing.

  Finishing up, I toweled myself off and fished for clean clothes. I slipped back into Pat’s coat and sneakers, duffel bag in hand. No text message from Pat, but he didn’t need to. He said he expected me at eight, and I’ll be there.

  “This is a bad idea.”

  What else could I do? I couldn’t ignore the feelings I started to develop for Pat. Well, if isolation drove us to do crazy things, then all I needed to do was strap myself in for the wild ride ahead of us.

  ****

  True to Pat’s word, the doorman admitted me without question. Although, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out I don’t fit in here, Pat’s oversized coat just covers my faded jeans and shirt. Nothing changed since the first time I entered the lavish dark wood paneled lobby, complete with marble flooring and grotesque big-ass glittering chandelier above.

  “Mr. Singer entrusted me to give you this,” said the elderly and snooty doorman before I entered the lift.

  Discretely, he pressed a key card to the penthouse in my hand like it’s a distasteful task. His look said everything. He doesn’t think I’ll last and it made me wonder how many other gullible young men Pat lured in to play his dead mate. Pat assured me I had been the only one to answer his ad, but I’m no longer sure. I couldn’t say Pat lured me either, because I answered the ad and recklessly pushed Pat into giving in to the heat between us on my own accord.

  Taking the card, I grunted out thanks and entered the elevator. Thankfully, I’m the only one there. After sliding the card, I shifted on one foot to the next, wondering why the fuck I cared about what others thought about me?

  Then again, I’ve thrust myself into unfamiliar territory. I don’t know how long I planned on living with Pat. Not a permanent solution, I knew that. In a way, I was still running away from my problems, choosing instead to cling to Pat, but I didn’t care.

  The elevator chimed at the penthouse suite. Chin up, eyes forward, I told myself to relax. Pat’s unit is the only one on the floor. I noticed the tiny camera to the left of the narrow corridor, the angle perfect to observe the entire space. Did Lex and the rest of the security team watch my every movement, trying to discern if I posed a threat to their boss?

  Before I can ring the bell, the door opened, revealing Pat.

  “Finally, I was fucking getting hungry,” he mumbled, letting me in.

  “And grumpy?” I couldn’t help but ask. How long had he been standing by the door, waiting for me?

  Brows knitted, Pat looked at me and back to the door, gaze finally settling on the duffel in my hand. “That’s all your things? This isn’t an overnight sleepover.”

  Cheeks turning pink, I silently counted to ten in my head. “This is all my belongin
gs.”

  “Oh.” Pat took the bag without another word. I blinked, kicked off my shoes, laid his coat over a chair after shedding it, and followed his lumbering form.

  “Where are you taking my bag?”

  “Believe me, pet. I don’t think there’s anything worthwhile stealing in here.”

  “Not helping,” I muttered. It turned out his final destination had been the bedroom, which looked a little different. For one, an extra chest of drawers, all pulled out and empty, stood next to his.

  “I thought you’d have more things.” Pat’s voice floated behind me as I went exploring. Half of his impressive walk-in closet looked emptied out. Swallowing, I entered his lavish bathroom. Jesus Christ. Over a day, the space had new fixings. Extra towel bars where a new towel hung, embroidered with the letter J.

  “Holy shit, did you install a new sink?” Said sink came complete with extra mirror, cabinet, cup with a new toothbrush, and everything matched Pat’s other sink.

  “If you don’t like it, I can get my contractors to take it down,” Pat grumbled behind me. I turned, catching sight of his angry and hurt expression. Like the night before, he reminded of a wounded grizzly in the woods I can’t help but want to pull into a hug.

  I took deep breaths and tried to take control of the situation. “Pat, you must see how crazy all this is.”

  His pupils dilated at that one word, turning from dark brown to beast gold in seconds. Pat’s lips curved into a flat line and I realized my one mistake. The press called him insane when he went berserk during a charity event, shifted and went after the drunk truck driver who ran Jack over. I needed to remedy my mistake. Pronto.

  “This is all hard to take in. What happened to going slow? Look, I didn’t mean to call you crazy, I’m also the same for coming back here, aren’t I?”

  Pat closed on me, no longer mad. The expression on his face is hard to decipher, and I wondered if he’d changed his mind and decided to throw me out. Without cash, I would probably end up in a homeless shelter, but it’s hard to find one with spare room in the dead of winter.

  “I overdid it.” Each step he took towards me made it hard to think and remember why I was pissed at the first place. It’s not the well-heated room making my skin feverish hot, but his proximity. “But don’t make a mistake, Jacob. I already had you once, but I can’t get enough. You’re going to be mine eventually.”

  “Dude, can’t you see how those words sound so overwhelming?”

  “Dude?” Pat shook his head, close enough to pull me close.

  I gasped as the solid press of his chest collided against my body. He rubbed against me, letting me feel his hard-on and my own traitorous cock, waking, becoming erect. “Don’t make it sound like I’m some stranger you met on the street.”

  “What do you want me to call you?”

  “Anything you want that doesn’t sound so cold.” Pat retreated, letting me go, the distance where he’d been only seconds ago suddenly felt empty. Cold. What the hell was happening to me? Why did I react to Pat like this every single time, like an addict chasing after his choice of poison?

  “Let’s have dinner before the beef grows cold,” Pat said. By his amused tone, I could tell he sensed my discomfort. I followed him back to the dining room, not surprised the table is elaborately setup like the night before. The impeccable table cloth matched the cutlery, plates and serving dishes. My stomach grumbled at the smell of roast and potatoes.

  “Can we finish all this?”

  “Bears eat a lot.”

  We took our seats and eat in silence. I gobbled every thing in sight. Screw manners. I needed energy to get through the big talk we’re bound to have after dessert. Noticing Pat watching me, I asked, “What?”

  “I like seeing a human with such a voracious appetite.”

  I swiped the juices dribbling at the corner of my mouth with the napkin. “Pat, we need to discuss conditions.”

  I hated how I sounded, like we’re drawing out a contract, but how else could I get a foothold or a say in this relationship, if I can even call it that.

  “Rules? This is my den, human. You’re not my guest either. I make the rules here.”

  Remembering the rule about not taking my eye off a predator, I held his gaze. “What am I then?”

  “My mate.”

  Stunned, I sat back in my seat, dinner forgotten. How two words packed so much punch, I didn’t know.

  I might be human, but I knew the basic concept of mating. Shifters mated in pairs, I knew. They held on to that one person for the rest of their lives, because to them, mating was more serious, more sacred than any marriage contract. Behind Pat, is the wedding shot of Jack and he in matching tuxes, kissing, holding hands.

  I can’t be Pat’s mate. Jack held that place. Forever.

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” I whispered, tearing my gaze from the photo. “No lies either. You want me because I look like him.”

  Pat recoiled from my words, as if they had power to hurt in unexpected ways. He stared at my half-eaten plate, piled with meat slices and potato. Finally, he said, “You knew what you were getting into.”

  “That doesn’t help your case, bear.”

  “Jack was a vegetarian. He didn’t question my gifts, only accepted them. You, Jacob, love meat so much you should be born a shifter. You don’t like what I offer, because you feel like you need to earn it.”

  His observation startled me.

  “Jacob, you might look like Jack, but you two are worlds apart. You’re not a copy, but something else. I was drawn to you because you wore his face, but I want you for different reasons.” Not done, Pat was on a roll. “There’s something between us, and you know it. Won’t you give me a chance?”

  Chapter Three

  Jacob

  Aware Pat practically offered his heart to me on a platter, I knew my next words could make or break us, so I chose them carefully.

  “I feel like I’m on a rollercoaster ride, destination unknown and it frightens the hell out of me. Before meeting you, I’ve never been in any real relationship.”

  Pat looked contemplative. “I understand now, I think, but you haven’t answered my question.”

  “Hell, I’ve already moved in with you. I have a copy of your key.” I played with my fork. “Don’t say it, prove it. That’s what the guys and I said back when we were in the desert. Stop fucking around and do it.”

  I didn’t add we had that pep talk when we’re on the verge of an attack or defending our position. Cornered like rats in a dusty hellhounds, I found out being afraid was easy. Being brave took more guts, but I’m not in the field any longer. I could manage one werebear, can’t I?

  “You make it sound like an unpleasant task, Jacob.”

  “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Pat, I’m fucking terrified of where this is going, but I want to find out or else regret it forever.”

  “Reasonable enough. Finish your meal, we still have dessert.”

  Relieved we managed to talk it out, we managed to finish the rest of the main course without sniping at each other. Dessert, I’m not surprised to find out, turned out to be an eight-layered honey cake.

  Taking a forkful, the subtle sweetness exploded on my tongue. I sighed. “God, who made this? It’s fucking delicious.”

  “My housekeeper.” Pat unsurprisingly, took the rest of the cake for himself. Maybe it’s a werebear thing he didn’t seem to get fat, because each decadent slice packs a wallop of calories.

  “Is she the one who comes in every afternoon?”

  He nodded.

  “You have to introduce us.”

  “Of course I’ll introduce Maria soon and I’d like you to meet my security team.” At my surprised look, Pat continued, “Jacob, I have every intention of making you part of my life.”

  “Good.” That’s all I could say.

  Pat looked dead serious about integrating me into his life. Guilt rammed into me. I knew I needed to put my foot down, but he also
made a valid point. This apartment no longer served as his home, but became his entire world when Jack died. I came, barging in, messing up the order of his life, but he needed it. Pat shouldn’t continue keeping himself in the dark. There was entire whole world out there. Hopefully, we could explore it together, with me leading him by the hand.

  “Thinking deep thoughts now, are we?”

  I blinked, noticing Pat finished his cake. Not wanting to scare Pat right off the bat, I said instead, “Thinking how we need to take this step-by-step.”

  Standing, suddenly unable to bear the distance between us, I rose from my seat. Making my way towards Pat, I became aware of the weight of his gaze. When he’s with me, Pat didn’t bother hiding the desire in his eyes or the raw hunger there. Pushing the utensils and plates away, Pat banded his hand around my hips, bringing me close. As he buried his head into my groin, I fisted his hair, wondering how the bristles of his jaw would feel brushing against my naked dick.

  Damn jeans.

  “Wait,” I said, gently pushing his head away.

  Ridiculous to be thinking about modesty now when we’re so high up in the air. Pat didn’t need curtains, but the tall glass windows still showed us the view of the city. A pervert might be on one of the roofs, binoculars in hand. Crazy thought, but maybe I’m just terrified of revisiting what we had last night. The only difference between then and now? I had a feeling the electricity between us would burn only brighter, and spark something I’m not ready for.

  “You approached me first, pet.”

  I didn’t stop Pat from lifting me effortlessly by the waist and sitting me on the edge of the table. At this angle, Pat had perfect view of my needy cock, restrained by my jeans.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, feeling stupid when he hooked his fingers into my belt loops.

  “I’m not satisfied with cake. I want more dessert. Yes or no, Jacob. Say it now, before I lose control.”

  “You know what my answer is.”

  “I want to hear it, your consent. Beg me. Tell me what you want me to do to this gorgeous body of yours.”