Page 6 of Chev's Mate

I hate how he looks at me, evaluating my body with such open excitement. I curl in on myself, not wanting his eyes—or any part of him—on me.

“You’re my mate,” Chev says.

I shake my head, denying it. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” he insists. He grabs the front of his leathers and yanks them up, exposing himself. “Look!”

I scramble backward, my shoulder slamming into the wall.What’s he doing?He takes a hold of himself, and I’m filled with horror.

I’m going to vomit. I knew this was too good to be true. When I was first rescued, I thought it was a cruel joke. The ogres loved to do that, loved to make us believe things were getting better just so they could watch our bodies and minds break at their hands once more.

It was a cruel form of torture. You eventually learn not to get your hopes up, and I was stupid to do so here. The shifters may have removed us from our owners, but at the end of the day, males are males. They only have one thing on their mind, one goal, and Chev is showing me his.

“No, no! Not that!” Chev sounds panicked. He shoves his length to the side with enough force that he winces, hiding it from my view as he points to the mate mark next to it.

His is a light gray.

“You’re my mate, Vanessa,” he says. “I can feel it, and you’ve darkened my mark.”

I turn away, watching out of the corner of my eyes as he finally lowers his skirt. Men exposing themselves to me is nothing new, and it always ends the same way. I want to hurt him.

The way Chev stalks toward me is proof enough of his intentions. The shifters have always placed too much importance on their mate bonds, and while their obsession is cute from a distance, I just know it’s absolutely suffocating from the inside.

I don’t want a mate. I don’t want a male.

“Leave,” I say, struggling to work up the courage to speak. “I don’t want this.”

The therapists inside the facilities always say we’re entitled to speak our minds. If we don’t want a man, we have every right to say so. We’re not property, and they can’t force us. Not anymore.

“No.” Chev doesn’t hesitate to reject my request. “You’re my mate.”

My heart is beating so fast, it’s a miracle I’m still standing. I scan the room, hoping to find a weapon to defend myself with. I refuse to become an abused, kept female again. I worked hard to overcome it, and I won’t let Chev take my freedom from me.

“I am your nothing,” I insist, subtly inching toward the office door. “I am not your mate.”

Shifter males are territorial, but I bet Echo can help me. Her office is on the other side of the building, but I’m willing to bet I’m faster than Chev. He’s large and strong, which doesn’t always correlate to fast.

I need a head start, and what lies underneath his leathers is the perfect target.

Chev takes a cautious step in my direction, his shoulders hunched forward in a clear attempt to appear small. I muster every bit of courage I have as I let him approach.

He coos. “It’s okay, my mate. I’m not going to hurt you.”

He holds out his arms, and the second I feel them begin to close around me, I raise my knee and slam it as hard as I can between his legs.

Chev groans and folds in on himself, and I waste no time darting toward the door. I want to draw attention to us, and I scream as I sprint down the long hallway. I was happy with the seclusion of my office, but now I wish it were in a busier area.

Loud footsteps thunder behind me, encouraging me to pick up my pace as I hear Chev closing the gap. He’s faster than I thought he’d be.

I open my mouth to let out another scream, but the noise is stolen from my throat as a heavy arm wraps around my midsection and pulls me back against a hard chest. My heels drag against the floor, and I scratch at Chev’s bicep as he forces me into my office.

I thrash and try to pry him off, tears streaming down my cheeks as I struggle to breathe. Chev releases me the second we’re back inside my office, and I flatten myself against the farthest wall as he locks the door. Why’s he doing this?

“Fuck,” Chev says, running his hands through his hair. “Fuck!”

He turns and reopens the door a second later. I’m still flattened against the wall, too frantic to feel relieved, as he storms out of the room. He slams the door shut behind him, and my knees wobble as I rush toward it.

Is he still out there?

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