Page 26 of His Mate

Then I caught his scent. That familiar, musky, earthy scent, tinged with something darker, something feral and wild. My heart skipped a beat, my thoughts spiraling.

Him. It had to be him. The wolf that had marked and fucked me that very first time…

But I couldn’t be sure. The uncertainty gnawed at me, made my throat tighten, and I felt my breath catch.

Then everything happened at once. I heard the scuffle of feet, the sound of a body slamming into the wall with a bone-rattling crash, and I flinched, my body instinctively trying to curl in on itself despite the restraints holding me in place. There was a grunt of pain, a snarl, and then the unmistakable sound of bone meeting bone—a punch, I guessed, quick and brutal.

My heart pounded in my ears, drowning out everything else, and I bit down on my lip, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth as I tried to keep myself from crying out. The fight raged on behind me, each impact loud and violent, reverberating through the small room.

A growl tore through the space, deep and feral, and I knew it was him.

The wolf.Mywolf.

I squeezed my eyes shut, my fingers clenching into fists, and prayed for this to be over, for him to win.

“This one’s not yours,” my wolf snarled, his voice rough, defensive.

“Get out,” the man behind me snapped, but there was an edge to his voice now, a sliver of fear threading through the anger. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Then, in one swift, decisive moment, I heard the sickening snap of bone, loud and final. The room fell silent, save for the ragged breathing of whoever was left standing.

Whoever had won had just snapped the other’s throat.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry, every inch of me trembling as I tried to catch my breath, tried to make sense of what had just happened. The scent of blood hung heavy in the air, mingling with the musk of sweat and adrenaline, and I felt my chest tighten with anxiety.

Footsteps approached me, slow and deliberate, and I tensed, waiting, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Who had come out the victor?

Then he reached out, and his fingers brushed against the bare skin of my ass, so gentle it was almost like a warm breath against my skin. I shivered, my muscles tightening instinctively, but his touch didn’t press harder, didn’t demand anything from me. Itlingered there, light and careful, as if he was afraid that I might break right then and there.

My breathing hitched, and I dared to open my eyes, to glance back as far as the restraints would allow. There was something different in the way he touched me. It wasn’t possessive—it was reassuring in a way, a tether pulling me back from the fear that still gripped my chest.

And then I knew.

“It’s you,” I whispered, more to myself than to him, my voice trembling with the realization. The scent was unmistakable now—it was him.

His hand moved up the length of my body, trailing along my spine, and I felt the heat of it, felt it seep into my skin. I took a shuddering breath, and as he continued to touch me, the fear slowly began to ebb, replaced by something else, something that simmered just beneath the surface—a longing that made my pulse quicken for reasons entirely different from before.

“You’re safe now,” he murmured, his voice low, roughened at the edges, but with a softness that sent a thrill through me. I could feel his breath, warm against the back of my neck, and the gentle rumble of his voice seemed to vibrate through every inch of me. My core squeezed tight with simmering need.

I shifted against the restraints, trying to see more of him, but all I managed was to feel his touch even more keenly, the way his fingers seemed to linger against my skin. My burning desire was there, unmistakable now, building with each soft, careful touch, and I couldn’t stop myself from arching into him, needing more, wanting more.

“I don’t even know your name,” I said, and my voice broke, trembling on the edge of something I couldn’t quite identify.

He was silent for a moment, as if considering me, and I felt his fingers curl slightly, the pads of his fingertips pressing into the sensitive skin along my upper thigh. It ached just a little, but I didn’t cry out.

“Rowan,” he said finally, and the sound of it was like a missing puzzle piece sliding into place. “My name is Rowan.”

“Rowan,” I repeated, tasting the syllables on my tongue, letting them settle. It felt right, somehow, like it had always been there, just waiting for me to reach out and find it. “I’m Kendra.”

“Kendra,” he echoed, and there was something in the way he said it, something that made my breath hitch, that made my heart stutter in my chest. He dragged his fingers down the full expanse of my back, slow and deliberate, teasing the curve of my spine, and I felt my whole body begin to tremble, heat pooling low in my stomach, my inner walls fluttering with need.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, and I could hear the smile in his voice, the faint edge of amusement that made me want to melt and lash out all at once. “Are you afraid, Kendra?”

“No,” I lied, and the word came out as a breathless whisper. “I’m not afraid of you.”

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through my bones, and his hand moved lower, skimming over the curve of my hip, tracing just below the line where the rough cloth of the dress hem fell on my skin.

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