Page 8 of Unwilling Mate

It takes me a few minutes of rummaging through the cabinets to find a pen and paper. When I finally have something useful in hand, I take it back to the table and set it in front of her.

She takes the pen hesitantly. Her excitement from a moment ago is slipping away, and doubt is taking its place. I’m not sure why the sudden change, but I decide to give her time to collect herself.

When she finally does start to write, she does so slowly, almost squarely, as if she hasn’t written anything down in a very long time. Her penmanship is juvenile, and some of the words are misspelled. After she is done, she pulls her hand aside and lets me read.

I don’t know where to start.

“Start by telling me how you ended up working as a maid for those women.”

Biting her bottom lip, she returns the pen to the paper and continues scribbling down her story.

Those women are my stepmother and stepsisters. My mother died when I was a baby, and my father died many years ago. After he died, they wouldn't let me go back to school and moved me into the attic.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I can’t believe what I’m reading, and if I hadn’t seen it for myself, I probably wouldn’t believe it. “I’m guessing you don’t have any other relatives?”

She shakes her head with a sad expression plastered over her face.

“You won’t have to go back there. Ever. This is your home now.”

Thank you.

“You don’t have to thank me, but I would like to figure out why you can’t talk. Do you remember being able to talk? Maybe when you were younger?”

She thinks about it a moment before shaking her head.

“Can you try to say something now?” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I can feel anxiety come from her like a tidal wave. It’s so strong her fear has my own setting in. Why is she so scared to talk?

“You don’t have to try right now. Let’s just finish eating, okay?” Even if I couldn’t sense what she’s feeling, I know she’s relieved from the way she sucks in a breath and lets her shoulders sag. I have no clue what’s going on with her, but I will find out eventually.

We finish eating the fruit until the bowl is empty. I make sure she eats more than me since I know she needs it right now. I put down my fork and lean back on my chair when Abbie jumps up and starts gathering our dishes.

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll take care of it in a minute.”

She pauses and stares at me like I’ve just grown a second head, but she doesn’t sit back down. It’s as if she is waiting for me to tell her I’m joking.

“I mean it, you don’t have to clean up after me, or even after yourself. You’re still healing and getting adjusted to everything. So you just relax and let me take care of you.” My words finally sink in, and she places the bowl and cups back in front of us before sitting down. Then she reaches for the pen and paper and starts writing.

What’s your name?

“Thorn,” I say, feeling like a dumbass for not introducing myself before.

How old are you?

Shit, that’s going to be a tricky question to answer. “Well, I’m a lot older than I look. You have to remember what I told you. I’m not all human. I’m a shifter, and we don’t age like you do.” I haven't thought about my age in so long I actually have to do some quick math in my head to figure it out. “I’m forty-six years old.”

She tries to hide her shock, but as the mating bond is strengthening, there is not much she can hide from me.

“How old are you?”

Eighteen. She is about to put the pen back down but then continues writing.Since today.

“Wait. Today is your birthday?” She gives me a shy smile and a quick nod. “Well, shit, another reason to celebrate then, and I know just the way to do that. Today, you will be spoiled rotten. I will give you a bath, a full-body massage, and then I’m going to make you come so many times, you’ll eventually pass out from exhaustion.”

Her straight white teeth dig into her bottom lip as she writes down the next words.I want to make you come too.

“Don’t worry, my little mate, you will.”

5

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