Page 91 of Who We Were

"Ten minutes max," I confirm. "There's a gas station right down the road."

"Okay," she murmurs, snuggling back into her couch nest. "Ice cream please."

Chuckling at her cuteness, I drop a kiss on her forehead and unfold from the couch. My back pops as I bend to tug my boots on, then almost groan once I have my leather jacket and black helmet strapped on. With the front door locked and tested quickly, I run my hands along my motorcycle like a long-lost lover.

Fuck, I missed riding.

I don't remember the last time I left Amaya's house, but with every turn of the wheels away from her, I itch to turn around and never leave again.

Ice cream.Mate wants ice cream.

I chant that mantra over and over again during the three-minute drive to the gas station, but I still jump off my bike and rush through the store like my ass is on fire.

I'm about to strap my helmet back on and swing my leg over my seat when my pocket begins to vibrate. Pausing for just a moment, I pull it out to check who it is before I silence the call. Instead of hitting ignore, I frown and answer.

"Paul?" I ask immediately, wondering why Amaya's dad is calling me at ten on a Thursday night.

"WHERE'S AMAYA?!"

I don't pause and I absolutely don't fucking hesitate. My helmet clatters to the ground alongside my cellphone. No father answers the goddamn phone like that unless their kid is in danger.

I am stone, and sheer determination as I whip down the road. There's no room for anything else. All that matters is the road between me and my mate. The bond is silent and snoozy, right up until I'm screeching through a left-hand turn, then fear likeI've never known it slams into my chest and chokes my beating heart.

My leaning body for the turn jolts and contracts on her unadulterated panic. What would have been my final turn onto her road ends with me careening straight into the asphalt, ending the night in the worst failure I could have ever made.

The light shuts off in my stunned, aching brain, but not before I'm left with the agony of knowing my mate is home alone, and scared. I was so close, but I didn't make it in time.

62

AMAYA

I'm counting the minutes, no that's a lie, I've been counting the seconds since I heard Vincent's motorcycle roar to life outside. Yes, Ireallywant ice cream, but with every moment he's gone, the twitchier I get.

We're coming up on the seventh minute of me trying to force myself to snooze a little more, but I just can't do it no matter how sleepy I still am. I won't be able to rest until my alpha is tucked back into my nest. Preferably with a carton of chocolate ice cream and a spoon, of course.

Gently, so as not to disturb my couch nest, I nudge my sheet off of me and stretch. Vincent will be home any minute, and I can't eat my goodies lying down.

The sound of the lock jiggling on the front door then the hinges creaking open have a wide smile stretching my cheeks. A nasty little pull on my skin tells me I've been drooling.Gross.

"Just in time!" I exclaim excitedly and wipe my face.

Shifting my butt as Vincent's heavy boots stomp toward me, I scooch into a sitting position, ready to receive my treat. The smell of motor oil assaults my senses, but maybe I'm just sensitive to his motorcycle scent or something.

"Eee," I squeal, doing a little jig when I feel his urgency through the bond. "Gimme!" I encourage, my sleepiness draining away with the buzz of our tether.

I tip my head back in hopes of also getting a kiss. Instead of my mate's soft lips, a leather clad hand slams into my mouth. My eyes cross and a muffled scream burns my throat as blood threatens to choke me out.

"They just keep getting dumber and dumber," a voice grumbles, sending chills across my exposed arms and chest.

I writhe and wiggle, using the rest of my body to my advantage to escape the intruder's clutches.

"Oh," someone drawls in the low lighting of my living room. "At least this one's trying."

I can practically feel their hands reaching for me, and their vile breath breathing down my neck as I scramble across the couch. I hold on to hope that Vincent will bust through the front door and save me, but my heart slamming into my ribcage squeezes at the same time my brain rattles with pain.

The world tips and twirls, reminding me of a particularly bad punishment I received at the academy. The time my skull was slammed into a brick wall. The implication that I'm feeling my alpha's agony rips a keening cry from my throat.

I don't care about the pain, not even as it becomes my own as I tumble from the couch and crack my head against the coffee table. Nothing matters, not the black stealing my vision, or the monsters bruising my biceps as they drag me through my home. All I can truly register is the horrific silence through our bond that numbs my soul.

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