by Snow, Jenika
There had been back-to-back patients, some just needing reassurance that things would be okay, others being sent to the hospital for issues we couldn’t treat ourselves.
But keeping busy, being surrounded by total strangers seemed to help with the loneliness I felt.
I took another sip of my wine and then set the glass down on the coffee table in front of me. Underneath the table I kept a few books and a photo album. The only one I owned.
I pulled the album out and lay back again, flipping through the pages, photos of when I was younger, foster siblings, school pictures. They all showed a girl who rarely smiled, her blond hair stringy, sometimes a matted mess, her blue eyes seeming too big for her face.
Me.
I’d had nothing, no one, as I’d jumped from foster home to foster home. But then I’d grown up, made my own way. I was happy now, relatively, helping others, focusing on that.
I picked up my wine glass and downed the rest of it, getting drunk and feeling pretty good. But there was always that festering dark hole inside me, the one that reached its long claws out, gripping me from the inside out, trying to tear through me, trying consume me.
To hell with that.
I was strong. I was a survivor.
I set the photo album aside and stood, making my way toward the bathroom. Getting drunk wasn’t my answer. Now, taking a long, hot bubble bath might actually help.
I ran the water and poured the lavender scented bubbles in. In a matter of seconds the room was starting to fill with steam, the scent of flowers filling the small interior. I got undressed, tossing my clothes into the small laundry basket tucked in the corner. And then I stared at myself in the mirror.
The woman who looked back at me was one I didn’t recognize some days. I lifted my hand and touched the side of my neck, the spot right underneath the skin tingling. It was a sensation that had started a couple of days ago. It wasn’t overly noticeable, just a slight tingling, intensifying when I lightly placed my finger on my skin.
I leaned in, looking at my neck, seeing if I could spot anything.
Smooth, pale skin. Nothing out of the ordinary, yet it was still sensitive, as if a jolt of electricity was stationed in just that one spot.
I was going insane, that had to be it. Why else had I been feeling especially on edge these past few days? Maybe I was working too hard? Maybe work was finally getting to me?
Maybe I just needed to get away from it all. And that was something I really needed to think about. Going off for a few days on my own, just relaxing, not worrying about anyone or anything. I could focus on myself. It might do me a world of good.
Or maybe it would make everything worse.
Chapter Three
Oli
The sun was already setting as I headed off the beach and toward my rental truck. I’d been in California for a week now, ready to move on to the next spot in my journey. I didn’t know what I expected to find when I’d decided to travel and be the one to find my mate.
But I’d assumed if my mate was close, I’d have been able to sense her, to feel something other than this longing.
I’d pushed off the diner sensation to my impatient bear, to the fact I was jealous of what my brothers had, their mates completing them. But I’d never admit that to anyone, not even saying those words out loud.
I ran my hand over my jaw, the several days’ worth of stubble scraping along my palm. My thoughts were on my next plans, on if I’d go up north and spend a day or two in the mountains, shifting and letting my bear work off this energy.
My bear paced, clawed to get out. Freedom. It wanted fucking freedom.
I set the surfboard I’d rented for the last few days in the back of my truck. Honestly, I had no fucking clue what I was doing out there, couldn’t even stand up long enough to catch a wave. But the feeling of floating on that board, my feet dangling on either side of it, of the sights, sounds, and smells surrounding me, had this calm settling over me.
I was about to get in my truck when I felt this tingling start at the base of my spine. It was the same sensation that had filled me in the diner. At first it wasn’t overly noticeable, but as the seconds moved by, my muscles tightened, and the hairs on my arms stood on end.
I looked around the nearly deserted parking lot, not seeing anything right away, but then my gaze stopped when I saw it.
The medical van I’d seen before.
I couldn’t ignore it, not when I felt that sensation move through me again.
There wasn’t anyone around the van, and aside from a small light above the side door, darkness surrounded it.
I found myself walking toward the van before I realized what I was doing. It was as if my body—my animal—propelled me forward, taking control.
And then I heard the sound of heavy breathing—frantic, with fear laced in it. Then glass shattering echoed around me. Footsteps started retreating, the sound of someone running having me walk faster.
This panic settled in my chest, this tightening under my ribs. Fuck, what was going on? I placed a hand over my heart and rubbed my chest, the discomfort intensifying.
I walked around the side and saw the source of the sound, what looked like a few broken beer bottles, shattered pieces on the parking lot asphalt. The scent of desperation and addiction hung in the air. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply again. Their scent was ingrained in my memory.
My bear rose up, becoming angry, restless.
I looked around, still not seeing anyone, but the idea of going back to my truck wasn’t something I could physically do. And then I heard a soft feminine whimper.
It was as if the world opened up and swallowed me whole. All it had taken was that soft sound, this one moment, to have every single piece of my life fall right into place. My bear snapped and growled, pacing, wanting out. It had him extending his claws and gripping me from the inside out, trying to tear free, forcing me to shift.
But I was stronger than he was, and I wasn’t about to let him have this first encounter, this first meeting with the one person we had been waiting for our entire life.
Our mate.
But as everything settled in me, I realized the whimper I’d heard was one of fear. I inhaled deeply, the crisp, tangy scent filling the air. I growled low, felt the shift almost take over. My bear wanted out to protect what was ours.
I stalked toward the door of the van, which was already open. I could see medical supplies scattered all along the floor. As I climbed into the interior, I knew where she was instantly. It was as if my body was being pulled toward her, two opposite ends of a magnet that couldn’t be kept apart.
I turned my head to the right, not seeing her at first but knowing she was in this direction. I could smell her, the slight, floral scent that was mixed with the fear she felt. I walked further into the van, stepping on rolls of tape and squares of gauze.
And then I saw her, pressed against the wall, an outcropping hiding her initially. She looked up at me with wide eyes, tears streaming down her face. Her fear spiked as she looked at me, this bitter scent that filled my head and instantly had me than my six-three height. She was so fragile … so human.
But in this moment, right now as she stared at me, I was the one who made her afraid.
I held up my hands in surrender and shook my head slowly. Her gaze darted to my hands, fear spiking even more.
God, they probably looked so big and intimidating.
“I have nothing else. No money, no drugs. Nothing.” She pressed her back more firmly against the wall and I growled low, not to frighten her further, which unfortunately was the result, but angry that my mate was upset and afraid.
I wanted to kill the motherfucker who had made her feel this way.
“I won’t hurt you.” I dropped my hands to my sides and tried to take a more nonthreatening approach to this. I took a step back, wanting to do the opposite, wanting to just pull her into my arms and hold her, tell her everything was okay. I also wanted to shift into my bear form, to h
unt down the guy who had frightened her. Fuck, I wanted to tear his limbs from his body. I wanted to punish him for even looking at my mate.
“Your eyes.” She whispered those two words and I internally cursed, realizing that my bear was a little too close to the surface, my eyes probably glowing, flashing yellow.
I closed them and took a deep breath in, exhaling slowly. I pushed the fucker down, told him to be patient, that frightening her would only have her drawing away from us even more. And when I felt him retreat, understanding, submitting in this one moment, it was then that I opened my eyes and looked at her again.
“I’m sorry,” I said even softer this time, calling out the gentlest part of me, but my voice was hoarse from the strong feelings bombarding me.
Love, lust, protectiveness, possessiveness.
It was all this whirlwind of feeling moving inside of me like a tornado, making a path of distraction, telling me that it wouldn’t subside until I made her mine.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated. “It’s just an unavoidable side effect of my inner animal.” Shifters weren’t some dark secret hidden away in a closet. We weren’t keeping to the shadows. We were known, feared and misunderstood the majority of the time. But right now, all I wanted her to do was love me, desire me like no other.
I wanted her to feel the same way for me as I did for her.
And although I could see that she recognized me in some form, a mate seeing a mate for the first time, she was far too afraid to acknowledge how deep our bond ran.
“I won’t hurt you,” I said in a softer voice, showing her that I was not a threat. Never to her. I looked around the trashed van, wanting to ask her exactly what had happened so I could hunt down the motherfucker who had done this, had made her scared.
I stared at her, looked into her blue eyes, her long blond hair that was a tangled mess around her head, the ponytail she’d once had hanging off to the side.
God, I hated she’d been hurt. I curled my hands into tight fists at my sides, forcing myself to appear … human. I didn’t want to frighten her more with the fact that I was now mated to her, that I would protect her at all costs.
I was possessive … obsessed with her.
She was mine, irrevocably, and I would never let her go.
“I—I know you won’t hurt me.” She knitted her brows. “Although I don’t know how I know that.” She smoothed her hands over her face, exhaustion filling her expression.
I wanted to hear her voice, wanted her to speak more.
“Who are you?” she said in a mere whisper. It took a hell of a lot of self-restraint not to go to her, touch her hair, smell her.
I wanted to bury my nose in the crook of her neck, get lost in her scent … mark her.
“Have we met before?”
Her fear started to lessen and that pleased me. But I wanted it to be completely gone, especially when she was with me.
Everything in me was so tight, so possessive right now. I wanted to shelter her from the world.
“No, we haven’t met before,” I said, but not telling her what we were to each other was hard as fuck.
The air was thick, the scent of her fear dissipating, replaced with confusion and curiosity. It filled my head.
She knew me but didn’t in the same breath. And that in itself scared her. But underneath all of that was her soul knowing mine, her body and mind recognizing me as hers the same way as she was mine.
As I took a step toward her, I found myself reaching out, unable to stop as I took a strand of her hair and rubbed it between my fingers, I knew I needed to go slow.
But as I leaned down and brought those locks to my nose, inhaling deeply and closing my eyes, the sweet, powerful aroma of her slammed into me, and there was one thing that was undeniable.
I craved her like no other.
Chapter Four
India
I couldn’t breathe, not as I stood there frozen and watched this man smell my hair. It was such an intimate act, his big body hunched over, his eyes closed as he rubbed those strands underneath his nose. This low rumble left him, a very animalistic growl.
My throat was tight, every muscle in my body tense. I couldn’t understand how I knew him, how seeing him had my fear leaving, had that darkness in me, that black hole slowly starting to fill in. It was as if my body recognized him, as if this very moment had been planned from birth.
He pulled back and straightened, his big body so masculine and powerful. I had to crane my neck back to look into his face. I should be screaming, terrified that he would hurt me.
The medic van had just been ransacked, two drunken men coming in here and destroying the place, looking for money and drugs, anything that they could sell.
I was shaken up, having been shoved against the wall so hard the breath had been knocked out of me. Even now I felt a bruise forming on my arm from when one of them had held me, pushed me back.
But as I stood in front of this shifter all I could feel was … lust.
It wasn’t just any kind of arousal. It was bone-breaking, soul-sucking, heat-inducing desire. It was the kind that took everything from you, that left you a broken mess on the ground unable to breathe.
He had a couple days’ worth of scruff covering his jaw and cheeks, and his hair was on the longer side, tied back in a man bun. He wore a white T-shirt, the material a little bit damp, the scent of salt water covering him. He’d come from the ocean. Maybe he was a surfer?
He had tattoos covering his arms, gray and black designs that meshed together to form intricate patterns. Those designs moved up his neck, and I could see them underneath the light fabric of his shirt. I lowered my gaze to his hands, seeing the dark ink covering those as well.
“What are you?” I whispered those words, feeling my breathing increase, not because of my fear but because of his close proximity.
I felt everything in me come alive. My nipples hardened underneath my scrub top, this tingling moving through my legs and arms. I started to become wet between my thighs, the sudden reaction having my face heating from embarrassment.
Never in my life had I felt arousal, nothing like this, nothing that stole my breath and had my pulse racing. The way he flared his nostrils, the low sound that came from him, as if he could smell me, turned me on even more. And he could smell me, I knew that with certainty.
“I’m yours,” he said in a distorted voice, one that wasn’t human. His eyes flashed yellow again, whatever animal that was inside of him trying to break through.
“Mine?” Saying that word, hearing him say I was his, felt so … right. I licked my lips and pushed away from the wall, my fear leaving me slowly, confusion taking its place. He took a few steps back, and I knew instinctively that he was trying to ease me, not wanting to frighten me further.
I didn’t know how I knew that, but I felt it as if it were my own emotions.
I looked around the ground, medical supplies scattered everywhere, cupboards open, glass jars broken, the contents inside strewn about. Defeat filled me.
“They wanted money, stole things that they could sell for drugs.” I said that out loud, and looked over at the mystery man. His presence, the very size of him, seemed to take up the whole interior.
“I’m sorry,” he said and I heard sincerity in his voice, knew he was genuinely upset for me that this had happened.
I closed my eyes and breathed out roughly, shaking my head at how shitty the situation was. I opened my eyes and looked back at him. There was something inside me that told me this was right, that this was what was supposed to happen, that it was how things were supposed to play out.
Although I wasn’t looking at him anymore, I could feel his gaze on me as I made my way through the van, looking around, trying to figure out where I would start. He kept his distance, which I appreciated given the situation. I should’ve told him to go, that I had enough to deal with without some strange man crowding me, saying he was mine.
But then something in me snapped and I found m
yself sitting down on one of the chairs, the tears coming, my shoulders hunched forward, my whole body shaking from the force of my emotion. I heard him come closer but I held one hand out, the other covering my face as I cried.
“Please,” I said softly, hating that my voice shook. “Please don’t come any closer. This is bad enough.” I needed to get myself under control, needed to focus on keeping my shit together. Life was hard and me breaking down in front of a stranger was only making a bad situation worse.
But it was hard being strong all the time. It was hard trying to be the rock everyone around me constantly saw.
He didn’t come any closer, but after a second, I heard him shuffling around the van.
He was cleaning up.
I dropped the hand covering my face to my lap and looked at him. He said nothing as he got on his haunches and started picking things up off the floor, never saying anything, never looking at me.
I should have gotten up and helped, but I was shocked, something in me so rooted to the spot.
He looked up at me then, his gaze seeming to look right into me.
I felt that sadness leave me, felt it being replaced with this warmth that started to form from the inside out and spread to every single inch of my body.
“What’s your name?” the shifter asked.
I felt that darkness, that numbness, trying to take control. But being in this man’s presence was like a bucket of water on that dark fire inside of me.
“India,” I found myself saying.
“India.” The way he said my name had my breath hitching.
He said it as though it was the greatest thing to ever pass his lips, as if he’d been waiting his entire life to utter that single word.
I opened my mouth to ask him the same question, but nothing came out, as if I weren’t strong enough to say it.
“Oli,” he said without me having to ask, and hearing his name was like a lightbulb had been turned on inside of me. That light grew until there was no more darkness, no more bitterness.