Page 112 of Cursed Bonds: An Alpha's Destiny

“I need to show her that I can be a good mate. I can prove that my fuck-up the other night was a one-time thing, that I’m not a shit heel. The potion worked, and now that the curse has been broken, I can sense the pull toward Kirsten stronger than ever before. She really is my fated mate. I’ll do anything and everything in my power to prove to her that I’m worthy of her.”

Before Waylan could respond, Kirsten bounded out the door. “You guys ready?” she asked. There was a spring in her step, and I could tell by the glimmer in her eye that she was excited to see her friend again.

“I’m ready if you are,” I said.

The three of us piled into my truck and set off for the airport.

“Why are you tagging along?” Kirsten asked, glancing over her shoulder at Waylan in the backseat.

“He’s my backup,” I explained.

“In case Eren or any of his pack tries anything on the trip,” Waylan added. “Jace can handle himself, but even the strongest alpha could use help if he’s outnumbered.”

A shadow of worry crossed Kirsten’s face, but she quickly shrugged it off. Instead of pursuing that line of questioning, she asked Waylan about himself.

“What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a mechanic. Got a shop in town. Though, I spend so much time helping this guy run the pack that I consider it a part-time job at this point.” Waylan snorted. “I swear, Jace would have a hard time putting his shoes on the right feet if I wasn’t around.”

“Very funny,” I grumbled.

As Kirsten and Waylan continued to speak, a warm, comforting sense of peace fell over me. I couldn’t know for sure, but the fact that she was trying to get to know my best friend, and helping him get to know her as well, gave me hope that Kirsten had truly changed her mind. That she really did want to stick around Crestwood. I would take all the playful ribbing in the world if that was true.

We arrived at St. Louis Regional Airport a few hours later, and I parked the truck in the short-term lot before we headed inside to await Harley’s arrival. Over the last half hour or so, the conversation between Kirsten and Waylan had strayed toward her friend. Waylan seemed very interested in meeting the woman. I remembered his wide-eyed look when we first researched Kirsten online and he’d seen her best friend. Fortunately for him, Kirsten was more than happy to discuss her friend. Whether she could see Waylan’s excitement or not remained to be seen, but there was no way she could have missed the sheer number of questions he had about Harley as we neared the airport.

The arrivals board, displayed on a big-screen television on one wall, stated that the flight from Houston was on time and had already landed. Harley would be coming out any minute now.

Seeing that we were hours from home, I shouldn’t have been so worried, but Eren had followed Kirsten to St. Louis before. He, or one of his men, could be anywhere. Knowing that, I scanned the surroundings, sniffing the air and eyeballing everyone. There were shifters around, but none bore the scent of Eren’s pack. From what I saw, they were all just mingling with the humans, moving to and from their respective destinations.

Waylan stiffened beside me. Immediately, I turned to him, thinking he’d seen something. Eren? One of his men? But he was looking toward the arrival terminal, his nostrils flared, pupils dilated so much that his eyes looked black, and the hair on his arms stood on end.

“Kirsten!” a melodic, feminine voice called out behind me.

I turned in time to see Kirsten bolt and rush toward a gorgeous, leggy redhead. The woman threw her carry-on down and wrapped my mate in a hug. Waylan let out a low growl of satisfaction and yearning, the sound a deep rumble in his chest.

I gaped at him. “You have got to be kidding me.”

With what appeared to be great effort, Waylan pulled his eyes from Harley and looked at me. His chest rose and fell rapidly.

“She’s my fated mate, Jace.” His voice was a raspy, choked whisper.

What are the odds? I thought as Kirsten led Harley toward us.

Waylan seemed barely capable of speaking as we went to baggage claim and got Harley’s suitcase. At the truck, Kirsten hopped in the backseat with her friend.

“I’ll drive,” Waylan grunted at me as we put the bags into the bed of the truck. “I need something to occupy my mind.”

I handed him the keys, but held on when he took them. “Are you good? I don’t need you crashing us into a guardrail because your dick’s hard.”

Waylan snorted a laugh, coming out of whatever trance he’d been in. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

Letting go of the keys, I went around and climbed into the passenger side. As we headed for home, Kirsten and Harley chatted nonstop. Waylan turned the radio on low to some country music station. Probably something else he was using to try and keep his mind off Harley. Not that it helped. Every half mile or so, I caught him looking at her in the rearview mirror.

After an hour, I leaned over, keeping my voice low so the women wouldn’t hear. “You’ve got to cool it, man. You’re being a bit creepy right now.”

Waylan glanced in the mirror again, then whispered, “My fated mate just hopped off a fucking plane and is sitting three feet behind me. What the hell do you expect me to do?”

I couldn’t argue with that. I knew how I’d felt the first time I saw and smelled Kirsten. I’d have probably been acting exactly like Waylan had Kirsten not been a witch. My anxiety, fear, and past hatred for her kind had been enough to supplant the excitement and desire raging in my chest.

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