Page 30 of Curvy Nanny for the Cougar
The faint shimmer of her delectable scent on the pillow.
The vague outline of her curves in my memory like a brand scorched into my skin.
She’s gone.
Gone.
My Cougar snarls beneath the surface, pacing, tail lashing in frustration.
My jaw clenches so tight I hear something crack.
I fumble for my phone, swipe it open, and launch the Date to Mate app like my life depends on it.
It does.
But all I get is a 404-style message where her profile used to be.
Profile ID: TW743
Age: 29
Likes: kids, cheese, quirky puns, and loyalty.
Location: less than a mile away.
Used to be right there.
With a happy, bright note that says MATCH FOUND.
Now? She’s been wiped clean like she never existed.
No more glowing profile.
No more name—or lack thereof.
No trail to follow.
My heart seizes.
My claws extend halfway before I reel them in, gritting out a curse so filthy the coffee table blushes.
“Fuck!”
I should’ve claimed her last night. Then, at least, I’d be able to track her through our matebond.
“Goddamn it!”
I pace the room naked, vibrating with restless energy.
I want to roar.
I want to shift and hunt her down like prey, but she’s not prey.
She’s my mate.
My honest-to-gods, for real in every way possible, better than I ever imagined—fated mate.
And I let her walk away.
