Page 17 of Defeated

“You don’t need to go.”

I’m thinking about how I can stop her without blocking her way out when someone rings the doorbell and she freezes, her eyes latching on the open hallway door beside me.

The faint scent of something meaty and delicious confirms trouble hasn’t tracked Zoe down. “Lunch,” I reassure her.

She doesn’t move.

“I’ll be right back,” I say, leaving her staring at the open hallway doorway.

I open the front door to a smiling delivery man, who passes over a large white paper bag and a cardboard holder with two coffees.

Taking both, I thank him, hand over a tip, and close the door before returning to the lounge.

Zoe’s eyes are like saucers when she spots the size of the bag in my hand. “That’s a lot of food.”

That’s because it’s not all for me.

“I was hungry.” I smile as I cross over to the coffee table. “But my eyes may have been bigger than my stomach. I wasn’t expecting such big portions of everything, so I might need you to help me out.”

She blinks. “Help you out?”

I open the paper bag, lifting out a thick paper-wrapped steak sandwich. “Look. This thing is the size of my head. Guess how many of these steak sandwiches I ordered?”

She shrugs. “Two?”

“Four,” I correct her. “And two soups to go with it.”

Her eyes slide from me to the sandwich and finally the bag. And I wonder when she last ate, because I’d put money on the fact she hasn’t been eating enough.

“So.” I hold out the sandwich toward her. “I ordered way too much food, and I hate waste. You’re helping me out with the packing. How about you help me out with this as well?”

Her stomach is grumbling, and again, I pretend not to hear it.

She gives me a probing look as if she doesn’t trust me. “I have a mate. So if this is you?—”

“It’s a sandwich,” I interrupt. “This isn’t anything but the need to fill both our bellies. That’s all.”

Suiting words to action, I take one sandwich and a white container of soup out of the bag, along with a black plastic spoon, a napkin, and finally one of the coffees.

And I take a seat in the armchair, leaving the rest of the food and the coffee on the table for her. She watches me take a sip from the coffee. “If you love pumpkin spice, you’ll love this. It’s good.”

Then I place the coffee on the coffee table, flick on the TV, and dig into my steak sandwich.

A long moment later, she crosses over to the couch and takes a seat before sipping from her coffee.

“It’s good,” she agrees.

“Well, dig in, and we’ll get back to packing once we’ve finished,” I tell her.

She’s quiet as she eats.

I take my time eating my sandwich, and I pretend not to notice her finishing her first sandwich, subtly glance at me, and then reach for another, eating that too.

Zoe has a mate, yet she’s here, alone, and being chased down by shifters. She could have a mate who hadn’t gotten around to biting her yet from her bare throat, but something isn’t as it should be.

Where is her mate? And why is she here alone?

7

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