Page 22 of Unwilling Mate

“There was a time I called you brother, you know. Packmates.”

I tap his leg. Just enough to get a reaction. Pathetic.

“I could’ve forgiven any attacks on me. But her, I show no mercy when it comes to her.”

I turn and go straight for his throat. My teeth sink deep, severing arteries as I bite down harder than I ever have. I tear his throat completely out, then stand over him, enjoying the sound of him gurling his last breath.

EPILOGUE

Abigail

The rumbleof an old diesel truck outside the small therapist’s office makes me smile. Not because I like the truck, but because it means Thorn has returned to pick me up. I squirm on the chair, and the therapist shakes his white head. “We still have a few more minutes here. Abigail, focus please.” His tone is disapproving, but I can see the smile in his gray eyes.

I sit up straighter and listen as he explains the changes to my anxiety medications. A solid round of things I’ve been taking for the past three months. They keep me calm and have showed me that I can indeed speak. It’s the mechanics of it I’m trying to learn now with the help of my therapist and a vocal coach who comes in special for my treatment.

“This one, make sure you take with plenty of water, remember?”

I nod again and wave toward the window, then scribble on a small whiteboard in my lap.Thorn won’t let me do anything but take them exactly as you prescribe them, trust me.

Dr. Harrow nods approvingly. “A mate is supposed to take care of his lady. Let him handle the heavy lifting, and you worry about growing the babies.”

A terribly sexist statement except the sentiment makes butterflies flutter in my gut. I take the bottle of pills and slip them into my purse to join the others. My vocal coach, Dr. Shana, sits next to me. Her skin is a deep rich brown, and her smile still mesmerizes me when I see it. “Ready for the cool down?”

I nod, giving her the hurry-up motion with my hands. She chuckles, lines crinkling around her eyes softly. We go through a series of sounds, each one meant to strengthen my vocal cords and my neck to get my voice back in working order.

We do several rounds until my throat aches, and I have to drink a special herbal tea the doctor prescribed for the recovery process. They think I’ll be able to speak in full sentences within a month, and I’m still not sure how I feel about it. Thorn says he wants what I want and will be happy either way, of course.

For the last round, the doctor places her warm hands on the sides of my neck and massages gently as I move through the noises. It tickles my throat, but we continue until I’ve exhausted the small stack of index cards she uses to guide me through the drills.

“See you next week?” she asks, taking the cards off my lap.

I nod and sling my purse over my shoulder.

It takes a moment to clear the office and then wait in line at the payment desk. Since it’s a small village, everyone pays in cash and up front. But in exchange, nothing is exorbitantly priced or overcharged. It’s an interesting system to watch. I pay the clerk, and she hands me a receipt with a polite but distracted thank you as she moves to her next customer.

I head out of the building to the parking lot. Thorn’s truck is parked at an angle in the spots near the building, but he’s nowhere to be seen. I pull the tailgate down and sit, waiting for him to return from whatever errand he raced off on. I think about the sounds I’d made and feel a tension in my shoulders.

The act of speaking, of talking, seems like a dream to me. At the same time, it also makes me feel vulnerable. Will people judge me for not saying the words right as I get started? Will Thorn still want to take me in public while I’m trying to get a handle on the sounds again?

My old fears rise, but then I catch sight of him sauntering down the sidewalk. His wide shoulders barely fit in the white T-shirt he’s wearing. His jeans are loose but then cut across his muscular thighs in a way that is positively indecent to watch.

When he makes it to me, my mouth is dry, and my pussy is wet. His eyes flash as he lowers his sunglasses because he knows it too. “All done, little mate?”

All the doubts lingering in my head are blown away in the face of him. I simply nod and let him help me off the tailgate and then escort me to the passenger side. He opens that door too and helps me climb into the oversized gas guzzler.

He jogs to the other door and climbs in, the entire truck rocking under his weight.

“I appreciate the looks you give me, little mate, but I’d prefer to be in the sessions with you when you go. You know I hate to let you out of my sight.”

I squirm in the seat and then write on the whiteboard to show him.I know you do, but it’s private, and it makes me feel self-conscious when you are watching.

He gives me another scowl and then a glare, tossing his sunglasses into the back seat. “How can you feel self-conscious around me? I was on my knees licking your cunt last night. Nothing should make you feel that way around me.”

I shrug, unable to explain it. Of course, he wouldn’t get it, looking the way he does and being the biggest, strongest meanest predator in the woods. I write on the board again.Maybe once I get to the full sentences, you can start coming then. Until then, it’s only when I say.

For a second, he looks like he wants to argue, but then he drops it and lifts his hips off the seat to hand me a lumpy white wrapper.

I write on the board, and he peers over.Was this in your pocket?

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