Page 15 of Owning His Mate

Calm down.I just had a shitty dream, and it woke me. You don’t need to worry about me. I’m not your problem, Kye.

His snortthrough the bond tells me what I can do with that assertion.

You are my only problem,he mutters.

Thanks,I drawl.Go back to sleep.

I shuthim out as much as possible while I nibble my bottom lip. Things are out of my control, and I don’t like that feeling.

As I switch on the lamp on the nightstand, the room floods with light, chasing the shadows away. For a moment, I feel better, but it’s fleeting. As much as I want to hide away, eventually I’ll have to deal with Kye—however that looks.

Knowing I’ll never be able to get back to sleep, I pull on my workout gear, scrape my hair back into a ponytail, and head downstairs. The building is silent, unsurprising given the early hour, and as I slip outside, the soupy start of dawn greets me.

I shove my earbuds in and pull up my playlist as I walk to the outskirts of the compound, shaking out my arms to loosen my muscles. Running isn’t my favorite exercise, but I need to clear my head.

Securing my phone in the pocket of my yoga pants, I jog slowly, warming up as I cross the grass at a steady pace. The bass thumps in my ears as I find my rhythm.

Left foot, right foot, left… I get lost in the momentum, pumping my arms as I propel forward.

The sky is lightening, but there are still shadows around the edge of the compound, where the floods don’t quite reach.

As I run, my thoughts empty of everything. I get lost in my breathing and the burn in my legs. The music pounds in my ears, drowning out any sound, including my labored breaths.

I’m coming up to my second lap around the compound when I scent him. I run faster, as if I can escape him if he truly decides to give chase.

I barely manage twenty steps before I hit a patch of uneven ground. My foot twists over, the bone crunching as I lose my balance.

A strangled yelp escapes my mouth as I fall heavily, throwing my hands out instinctively to cushion my body. As soon as my palms connect with the grass beneath me, a shock of pain burns up my wrist, radiating to my fingers and all the way to my elbow.

Fuck! The pain has me seeing stars. It hurts so badly my head swims.

Then he’s there, crouching in front of me, his big bulk filling my vision. Despite trying to ignore the bond, I feel his panic surge between us.

“You run from me as if you’re afraid I’m going to toss you on the ground and take you,” he mutters, his gaze on my wrist, which I’m cradling to my chest.

“Aren’t you?” The pain makes my words tight.

His face contorts, becoming a furious mask. “No. I’m not a fucking animal, Apryle.”

Ugly regret fizzles through me when I realize he’s hurt beneath the anger. It’s written in the stiffness of his body, but I can also feel it through our bond. Damn. I try to bury my own feelings, my fear, and my reluctance.

He reaches for my wrist, pausing before he touches me, and his head lifts as if asking for permission. I throw him an olive branch, offering my hand to him.

Despite his size, his fingers are gentle as they skim over my skin, and to my horror, his touch sends paroxysmal waves of need through me. This is not the time to be turned on, and I hold my breath, overwhelmed by his presence. His scent fills my nose,his awareness is in my head, and I can’t seem to fill my lungs as he examines my injury.

“Do you run in the middle of the night a lot?”

I don’t know how he makes that sound like an accusation. “It’s not the middle of the night. It’s almost morning.”

His fingers press against a sensitive spot, sending a sharp stab of pain racing through my wrist. I hiss, pulling back a little, but he keeps hold of me. “Sorry,” he murmurs, his touch softer when he resumes his examination. “It’s not safe.”

It takes me a second to realize he’s talking about the jogging.

“Really? It’s not safe to run inside this fortress? I mean, it’s not like we’re surrounded by chain-link fences and guarded by patrols, is it?”

He lifts his head, his brow cocking at my sarcasm, but I sense his amusement through our bond. I also can’t stop staring at the thick line of his jaw. It’s so chiseled?—

“Are you always so bitchy?”

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