My thoughts automatically drift to her. To my mate.
Mate.
The word circles like buzzards in my brain, pecking at me in a way that feels foreign but good.
Funny how if someone had asked me yesterday my thoughts about mating, I’d have said, with a casual shrug, it’ll happen if it’s meant to be, while not really believing it.
Today, my attitude couldn’t be more different. There’s a taut sort of tension in my belly, a fierce need, along with a jumble of other emotions that are about as easy to read as a tarot card for a blind man.
“Damn,” I whisper aloud. And that word sums it all up. Damn—this is crazy. Damn—I can’t believe it. But damn—it feels amazing.
I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t know anything about the stunning woman who’s recovering back home. I don’t know her name, who she is, or where she comes from.
I haven’t gone to the lockers where the runners drop off their things before a Hunt. I could pick out her belongings by smell, but I don’t know if she’d like that. Maybe I should though. She might want to have her stuff or at least her phone charged and waiting for her when she wakes up so she can call her family.
Unbidden, her delicious scent floods my senses like she’s here.
Silky sandalwood, night blooming jasmine, and a splash of spiced musk. It played through my head like a melody the first time I pulled it into my lungs during the Hunt. I couldn’t get enough. She smelled like strength, determination, and…home. It was like drinking the elixir of life. My whole world shifted its axis in a moment, and I knew. We all did.
There were over a dozen beautiful, eager potential mates in red cloaks just waiting to be plucked like wildflowers in the forest. Yet there’d been no question about which one was ours.
My eyes had locked on the gorgeous brunette, whose delectable body and soft curves were obvious through the scarlet material draped around her. And that was it. Right then and there, she became the center of our den’s orbit.
Now we just need to be patient and wait the week or two it takes before she wakes up.
What the hell am I doing here?
My mate is home, fighting to transition, and I’m here doing paperwork?
Fuck the witches. They got their confession. They can wait for the rest.
I clear my throat and reach for my intercom. Fife and the other deputies can manage everything from here. I press the call button on my desk phone when a knock at my door interrupts me.
“Yes?” I ask, letting go of the button, already knowing exactly who’s there. Only one person knocks around here.
Perfect timing.
“Sir, um, I’m sorry.” Fife pushes the door open hesitantly, his expression almost confused, like he’s unsure exactly what to say. He moves to tuck hair behind his ears, a nervous gesture I’m guessing he’s had all of his life, since he’s bald and there’s no longer anything to tuck.
Why is he nervous?
“Don’t be sorry. I was about to call you and ask for help. I need to leave ASAP,” I tell him as I stand up.
“Oh. No. Um, please don’t leave right now, sir,” he stumbles over his words as he knots his fingers together. “Something strange is going on.”
I pause and cock my head as I walk around the desk to stand by him. Fife’s a good-hearted guy but he’s definitely not the yellow crayon in the box. He’s a…much duller color.
“Okay. Did the vampires do something else?”
“If only,” Fife awkwardly chuckles before clearing his throat. “I…um…have a Noah Lupescu here, and she’d like to report a kidnapping and assault. I…well…I thought it might be best if she…uh…spoke to you,” he tells me, his volume dropping with each syllable until he’s practically whispering.
What the fuck was in the air last night? Another crime?
Fife’s eyes dart nervously over his shoulder, and all my thoughts of leaving immediately evaporate. “I think you need to talk to her.”
Shit.
I nod and a professional mask slides into place as I follow Fife’s anxious eyes in search of the new eerie who’s been wronged on Pack Arcan territory. Because if there is one thing I pride myself on, it’s the ability to protect the supernaturals who call this place home. As sheriff and pack celestial, I have a dual responsibility to law and order. Howling Rapids is our haven inside the harsh human world. I don’t take anyone messing with our hard-earned sanctuary lightly.
Fife pulls my office door open to reveal a woman standing behind him.
I freeze when my gaze lands on a pair of familiar greenish-blue eyes. Confusion crashes through me as I take in the soft skin, long eyelashes, dark brows, and lush lips of…my mate.
Her eyes widen when she sees me, her pupils dilating in a promising way. But there’s a strain and worry etched in her features. She looks pale, and she’s dressed in clothes that are far too big for her and smell like my den brothers.
What the hell is she doing here? She shouldn’t even be awake yet.
Fife moves further into my office, motioning for her to follow him. I look past her, expecting to see Ruger or Perth, but neither are with her.
The back of my neck starts to prickle.
“Sheriff, this is Noah Lupescu,” Fife provides in a hushed, hesitant tone as he studies the confused look stamped across my face.
No.
My stomach drops. Her name and Fife’s prior statement swirl together with the force of static electricity and explode like thunder inside my chest. The opposing revelations mess with the frenetic scale of my emotions. Tender joy at hearing her name. Noah. Accompanied by a whirlwind of fury because someone hurt her.
Assault and kidnapping—that’s what Fife said.
I bite back the sudden snarl that tries to claw its way up my throat.
My heartbeat pounds in my ears and I close my eyes for a millisecond so that I can control the livid wrath writhing inside me.
When I open my eyes again, she’s still standing there, hurt and vulnerable. It’s heartbreaking.
Fife motions for her to sit down, but I can’t seem to make my feet move because a war has been unleashed inside of me. My wolf howls for blood, demanding that I hunt down and attack any and every threat. My neck burns as my entire face grows hot with the need to shift and protect her.
Questions rush me as I temper my emotions. Is she okay? Are my brothers okay? Were they attacked?
I try to quiet the cacophony in my mind and slow the rapid pounding of my heart using a breathing technique that Perth swears by. It takes a few deep breaths before the raging alpha energy inside of me is reined in enough to let me absorb what Fife is saying to my mate.
“Sheriff Arcan will take care of you. Just tell him exactly what you told me,” he encourages, and Noah nods once and threads her fingers together before setting her hands over her right leg.
She looks so small, so fragile. I battle the urge to scoop her up and pull her into my lap so that I can soothe the line of worry currently marring her brow. Every wolf-driven instinct riding me morphs from vicious outrage to careful protector in zero point two seconds. I want to wrap my arms around her, nuzzle her neck, and assure her that everything will be okay.
Instead, I pull in a deep inhale of her scent and use it to ground myself. I need to make sure that I don’t do anything right now that could traumatize her further. And I don’t want her to shut down. I need answers and she needs to know that she’s safe, that her mates will never let anything bad happen to her again.