Page 10 of Royal Protector

He grunts and nods, turning towards the door. His large hand covers the doorknob and then, he pauses, not turning it. His broad shoulders rise and fall as he takes a deep breath.

“Is it true that you can’t recognize your True Mate?” he asks in a low, hesitant voice.

Why would he ask that, of all things? It’s a bit of a personal subject, and not one I’d like to think about. Still, maybe he doesn’t know any better. “Yes, it’s true. They could be right in front of me and I’ll never know. You’ve got to thank the medical advancements from the witch quadrant for that.”

His frown deepens. “And what happens to your Mate? What happens to the poor sap who is meant to be yours for the rest of your life?”

I take a step back, gutted by the words he growls at me. “They . . . well, they’re kept away from me.”

“Oh?” He whirls around, and suddenly, I’m pressed up against the wall, his hands bracketing either side of my face. His broad chest rubs against my breasts, and I whimper at the zing of pleasure it sends through my nipples. His reaction is immediate—darkened pupils and a low, possessive growl. “How are they kept away from you?”

“I—I don’t know,” I stammer, trying to stay focused on his inquiries and not the span of muscle holding me against the wall. “They tell us that our Mates are taken care of for life. They live in the lap of luxury for the rest of their days. The loss of their Mate is well-compensated.”

Antoine lets out a low, unfriendly chuckle, running his index down the side of my jaw. “Is that what your little advisor tells you?” He lifts my chin up with his finger. “Did you know they have to live in solitude for the rest of their lives, a danger to those around them? Eventually, they become so crazed between the loss of their own Pack and the loss of their Mate that they have to be drugged, or worse.”

I gasp at his accusation. “It’s not true. Martina would have—”

My words slide to a halt when he leans toward my neck and smells me, scenting me. I tilt my head back to give him more access, and he laughs against the skin of my neck.

Warmth builds deep in my body, and he raises his head, staring at me with equal parts hate and wonder. Then his lips descend on me, and all thoughts I had in my brain are gone, lost to this amazing kiss.

I feel as if lightning bolts are passing through his skin to mine, searing everything within reach. My legs start to shake, and he cups one of his big hands under my ass to hold me steady.

As quickly as it started, the kiss is over when he snarls and pulls back almost violently. He storms to the door, leaving me quivering against the wall, reeling from my first kiss with a man.

Again, he pauses just before leaving, glancing over his shoulder. “It’s a fine life you’ve doomed me to, Mate.” And with that, he’s gone, the door slamming so hard behind me that the old map falls off the wall with a crash.

A choked sob makes its way from my throat, and I slide down the wall until I’m curled up on my knees. No wonder he had been acting so strangely since he met me in the airport. I’m his True Mate.

I call out to all my senses, but nothing innately tells me that he is mine, or that I am his. There’s no pull bringing my soul to his. I’m lost to instant grief, simply by knowing how lostheis.

If what he said about the Mates of Untouchables was true, then he is absolutely right. I have doomed him to a hell not worth living.

ANTOINE

That night, as soon as Maura is on duty outside Isabella’s guest cabin, I shift as fast as possible into my wolf form and take off for the forest. I run and run andrun, as fast as my four legs can take me—as fast as I would run if there were any chance of me escaping my newfound future.

It is only that golden hum of the Mate bond, hovering between my soul and Isabella’s, that keeps me from running away forever. Isabella may not need me, may not evenknowshe needs me, but even though it will all end in tragedy, my body and my heart know they need her.

I run until the pads of my paws are sore, and my dark coat is filled with burrs and spattered mud. When I return to the village, I don’t shift back immediately, instead moseying up to Maura on Isabella’s front stoop.

“Everything’s fine, Captain,” she teases, patting me on the head between my ears.

I playfully nip at her fingers in response. I’m no one’s captain. I jog over to my cabin and shift at the door, so I can use my hands to unlock it.

Inside, I turn on the shower, letting the hot water run over my sore muscles. I’m in good shape, but I pushed my body too hard today without stretching. It’s going to hurt like hell in the morning, but not for much longer than that.

Thank God for shifter healing. Still, being sore is not good for someone who is supposed to be on high alert every moment. I scrub myself down with soap until I’m completely clean.

As it has been since that fateful moment in the airport, my cock is desperately hard, yearning for the pleasure that only Isabella can give. It juts out from my body, red, angry, and sensitive to every rush of skin and cloth against it.

Obviously never having been around my Mate before, I don’t know how intense this is going to get over the next few days, and I need my wits about me. Better to try and take the edge off now.

I clasp my hand around the swollen head, squeezing it a little and throwing myself into a fantasy of Isabella standing in the shower with me.

The fantasy starts with us kissing each other, soft presses that intensify every second, my tongue invading her lips in gentle but firm strokes. She looks up at me through her lashes with those soft brown eyes that drive me absolutely wild.

I am the hard to her soft, the strong to her gentle. I press her hard against the tiled wall of the shower, and she moans with surprise. I run a hand from her plump hip up the side of her curved belly, her skin sleek and slippery with water and soap. I’m starving for her, needing to plunge myself into her forever. I will never get enough.

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