Had they met under different circumstances, maybe she wouldn’t be so confused. If she’d met him at a bar, like she did with every other man, then she would have felt better. Everything about Zane was strange, from seeing him absolutely naked upon first meeting to how he followed her home and never really left.
“It’s because we’re mates,” Zane mumbled as if half asleep. He pressed his forehead to her shoulder and snuggled into her.
This massive, threatening man was rendered into a teddy bear by night. Even as cute as he was, she was not convinced of this mate business. Nor did she like how he seemed to read her mind. She furrowed her brow and thought long and hard at him, because there was a chance he really could read minds and if he did, she needed to know.
But Zane said nothing while she called him a big dumb puppy in her mind. She settled back into the blankets, resigned to the cuddling that would continue for the night. Just for this one night. Then Zane had to go. She couldn’t let him go on talking about mates and forever and all the things she didn’t believe in.
Zara might have found true love with Asher, but Chelsea wasn’t strong enough to take that chance again. If what Zane said was true, that he’d been locked in the lake for ten long years, then she was the first woman he set eyes on after a very long dry-streak. She wouldn’t be able to hold him for long.
His attention would inevitably stray. She would find herself alone and sad once again. And, if what he said was true, he would be so very broke. There was no way this man had a penny to his name. She would have to go back to hunting the pre-med and pre-law students soon. Money was the only thing that would ever make her settle down.
She couldn’t find love. That wasn’t a part of her life she could rely on.
“You’re still wiggling around. Go to sleep,” Zane urged her. “Don’t you have classes tomorrow? If you stay up all night, you’ll be exhausted.”
She sighed, slightly irritable. Why wouldn’t he just go away already? Zane wasn’t her boyfriend. He couldn’t be. This wasn’t a real relationship. It was just her loneliness that allowed a stranger to take up a place in her home.
Chelsea shoved her way out of the bed, but the moment her feet touched the ground, she regretted it. Without his arm over her and his body pressed against her side, she felt empty. The hollowness howled like a raging storm. She clutched her fists and bent over, trying to ignore the need pulling her back to him.
This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. She would never have what she wanted. It wasn’t fair of the universe to tease her with this momentary happiness. It was going to hurt too much when she lost him. She had to cut herself off right now, before she started to believe.
Zane snatched her from the edge of the bed. He yanked her back into him and brought her right back to where she’d been.
“You’re not alone,” he whispered.
She wished she could believe him.
6
Chelsea wasn’t surprised when she woke alone. She was, however, surprised to find that breakfast and coffee had been made. Scowling at the offering, she decided to grab a packaged cinnamon roll instead. The enticing aroma of cinnamon and maple syrup tried to drag her back inside to the plate of French toast, but she couldn’t let him act like he was a solid part of her life now.
He wasn’t.
No matter what Zara said. Her friend tried to convince her that Zane would always be there for her. Zara said that’s what mates did for one another. Yet, Zara had no evidence to prove that Zane really was Chelsea’s mate. The only thing Zara kept saying was that Chelsea broke the spell on him, as if that was irrefutable.
Anyone could have broken the spell. Chelsea remembered the day that wave crashed into the beach. How many people had been swept under? Had everyone gotten out? What if Zane’s mate found him at the bottom of that lake, but she never came back up? Asher had been kind enough to help Chelsea that day, but she wasn’t the only one the wave claimed.
Zara also warned Chelsea that Zane would have a grudge against the clan. That’s what Zara called her weird new family, a clan. Zane wouldn’t hurt Chelsea; mates couldn’t do that to each other. But there was a chance Zane would start a war with his old family, and Zara didn’t want her friend to get caught in the middle.
If anything, all Chelsea wanted to do was scream. She got through her classes but didn’t absorb anything. That was nothing new. She wasn’t sure she learned anything the past two years. What was the point? She felt so disconnected from her own life that she didn’t even mourn the future that could have been.
When Chelsea came home, the house was still empty. The French toast was still on the counter, as was the now cold coffee. Zane had disappeared once and for all. The hollowness inside her clenched. The pressure punched her sternum with all the force of a boxer.
It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. After all, Chelsea knew this was coming. She should have guarded herself a little better. She should have never let him inside, her house or her heart.
Swallowing the empty scream that was rising inside her, she turned toward the bedroom. From the floor, she snatched a pair of faux leather leggings. Since it was already October, and the weather was getting colder, she dug an off-the-shoulder sweater from the bottom of her dresser drawers.
She couldn’t stay inside. Not where she could smell Zane’s presence, where she could see him out of the corner of her eye. Chelsea reached atop the fridge and belatedly realized she’d already dumped all of her cheap alcohol. An irritated growl rumbled in her. Ready to be done with this place and everything she could no longer ignore, she called the cab service to come pick her up.
It should have been too early to drink at the bar, but the come of fall had darkened the sky and it felt like night. Chelsea didn’t bother herself over what was a good time to start drinking. She just wanted to forget about the man she shouldn’t even love.
There were so many other men in the world. Men that she didn’t have to love, that she would never take home, that wouldn’t break her heart.
At this time of the day, the pickings were slim. There was a businessman with his glasses on the edge of his nose as he tapped away at his laptop. A straight whiskey sat next to his work. Beyond him was a handful of men at the billiards table. They all wore biker vests and had bellies that betrayed their love for beer.
Chelsea sighed and chugged her drink. Maybe they would all look better if she was a little drunk. That was the idea, at least. Unfortunately, she kept glancing at her phone like Zane might call. He didn’t even have her number. He wasn’t coming back. She needed to come to terms with that.
If she couldn’t move on, she would drive herself mad with wanting. Was this what it meant to be mated? She wanted nothing of it if it meant Zane could wander off while she yearned, while she hurt so much.
A man claimed the seat beside her. He gestured to the bartender to get her another of what she was drinking. Chelsea should have turned on the charm. She had a killer smile, and she knew it. But, in this moment, she couldn’t summon it. All she could do was flash a ghost of one.
When the new drink slid up to her, she grabbed it and downed half. There was no burn of the alcohol. She could barely feel anything anymore.
“It’s a bit early in the day to be at a bar,” the man said to her.
“Says someone who is also here.” Chelsea held her drink close and forced herself to sip from the straw instead of downing most of it in a gulp.
The man gestured to the table behind her. He was the businessman. He’d taken off his glasses and set his work aside to come and flirt. His suit was sharp and expertly tailored. Even his beard was neatly trimmed. A week ago, Chelsea would have sunk her claws into him. He was everything she thought she wanted.
Now, she looked at him and saw nothing.
Still, here was a chance to forget Zane and the way he touched her so perfectly. Chelsea said fuck it to the tiny straw in her drink and downed the rest of it. The businessman didn’t seem fazed in the least. He raised hi
s own glass and saluted her before doing the same.
He struck up a shallow conversation, just a pretext to what she knew he wanted. She could feel his gaze on her bare shoulders. He wanted to touch them and trace the line of her spine. She was still in her prime, having a form that most men coveted. Of course, this man wanted her.
She was totally wantable.
Which was why Zane hadn’t stuck around.
Chelsea shook herself. Zane had stumbled back into her mind, unbidden. He didn’t belong there anymore. She was going to lock him out forever. Not even the memories of him were welcome. Not the first night with its mind-blowing sex, nor the second night when he held her and comforted her after her nightmare.
Fuck him.
Chelsea was exhausted. She couldn’t believe herself. For all the bracing she did to protect herself, all the times she told herself to back away from Zane, she found herself still thinking of him.
The boring conversation with the businessman went on for a while longer. Chelsea flirted automatically, like it was programmed into her unfeeling body. Eventually, he helped her to her feet and steered her toward the door. She grinned triumphantly when his hands stayed on her bare shoulders.
Yet, when she was about to get into his car and she looked back at him, she saw Zane. It was the rugged man with a lock of white hair that looked back at her. Her heart seized. He had returned.
The businessman holding the door for her moved from foot to foot. Chelsea snapped out of her daze and realized she’d been imagining things.
“Are you having second thoughts?” the businessman purred. His breath was hot, and smelled of ash.
Her brow furrowed. This wasn’t right. She wouldn’t feel this man when he touched her. She wouldn’t lose herself in him. Zane’s face would break into her mind time and time again. He was all she could think of. She’d been consumed by him.
When she glanced back inside the car, she noticed a pair of gloves in the cupholder. There was a red splatter on them that set off dim alarms in the back of her mind. Chelsea went completely still. An acknowledgement rang through her head.
Oh, I’ve made a mistake.
Everything she listened to in her true crime podcasts suddenly came rushing back. The red splatter on the gloves had to be blood. What else could it be? The thunder of her heart in her ears refused to let her be rational. It could have been paint or rust, but she imagined she could smell blood and death in the air. The bar hadn’t been crowded enough, though. The bartender surely saw the two of them leave. If this businessman planned to murder her, he would be caught not long after.
Not long after she died.
Chelsea straightened and tried to look the man in the eye. It was hard to tell if his intentions were pure considering she thought they were leaving to bang. Was it lust or bloodlust she saw on his face? He hadn’t shoved her into the car, yet. So that was good.
That changed in a moment, though. The man’s hand covered her head. Sharp nails bit into her scalp, stinging like needles. He shoved her down and into the car. She kicked and shouted, but that didn’t seem to stop him. Anger, at herself and the man hurting her, turned cold in her gut.
The image of him blurred, like she couldn’t quite grasp his features. She scowled and narrowed her eyes, trying to focus. Little by little, he came into view again, but the man she stared at wasn’t the man she met in the bar. He was different, his jaw narrower and the bit of white at his temples gone.
What had he put in her drink? She hadn’t walked away from it, so there was almost no chance for him to have slipped her something. And yet, something was very wrong. She had to be drugged. It was the only thing she could think of.
“Are you kidding me?” A familiar voice groaned. The sound was slightly muffled from inside the car. “Are you in the process of being kidnapped? I can’t leave you alone!”
Chelsea scrambled in the passenger seat, trying to right herself. Just when she was upright again, her kidnapper’s face met the passenger window. His features flattened and a look of pain scrunched his brow. He fumbled back, revealing Zane on the other side, his form nearly larger than life.
For a moment, Zane’s nose twitched like he could smell something foul. His features were darkened by a rage that almost made her scuttle away from the door. Then, in the blink of an eye, it disappeared. Her heart stammered. The sensation of clammy fingers brushed her skin and she jerked. Chelsea wanted out of this car.
Zane forgot the man on the ground and turned his attention to her. He gave her a look that was partially relief and partially reproach. Chelsea didn’t care. The moment Zane opened the door, she lurched out and into his arms.
“You need to be more careful,” he whispered into her hair.
He held her like the man would try to steal her away again, even though the kidnapper didn’t move from his spot on the ground. There was barely a pocket of air between her and Zane, and she wanted it that way.
Zane lifted her into his arms. His face captured her attention, and the recent moments slipped away. Feeling something amiss, she grasped for the lost thoughts, but they were out of reach like something was deleting her memories. She knew what happened, that she could have been seriously hurt. The image of bloodied gloves returned. The shape of a man entered her mind, already a foggy memory.
She peered over Zane’s shoulder at the man on the ground, but the only thing she could see were his yellow eyes as he glared at them. Those eyes promised more pain, but he didn’t move to follow them. Her heart froze, blood suddenly icy. Zane hugged her tighter while fear pounded inside her. She opened her mouth to warn him, but the man’s form was blurring.
The yellow eyes faded. He was only a sad man on the ground. He was a distant memory. The safety of Zane’s arms enveloped her, and she sank into his grasp.
No, she thought. That wasn’t what she wanted. She needed to be on guard. Alarm flared inside her, brief and fading. There was something she needed to remember, but his face was already gone. She could only recall the way he hurt her and the smell of his breath. Everything else was a blur.
“What were you doing?” She heard the incredulous hint of laughter in his voice. Zane was sitting back, watching her pace the living room.
He shouldn’t be here. She didn’t understand why he came back. Everything she knew was slowly tilting sideways. Zane didn’t belong here. Not with her. He should have been moving on with his life, his conquest, while she was…
Oh, my god. Chelsea recalled the way the businessman had shoved her into his car. She could have been murdered, becoming a subject on one of the podcasts she listened to.
Zane had arrived at just the right time. A moment sooner, and she would have lashed out at him. A moment later, and she would have been long gone.
She threaded her fingers in her hair and tugged, but it didn’t help release any of the energy still gripping her tight.
“I don’t understand any of this,” she howled. Chelsea paced back and forth.
Her chest hurt. She’d dealt with too many emotions for one day. She wasn’t used to feeling so deeply, to being cut like this. When she spun on Zane, he was still as calm as ever. It was like he’d found peace in her.
She wished she could find the same fountain of calm. Instead, she was worn out and tired and wanted to scream at the universe for dealing her this hand. She was sick of it, always being tossed around and unable to let herself yearn the way she used to. Ever since her ex-husband and the dreams he smashed, Chelsea locked away the part of herself that wanted. The part that screamed for solace and passion.
“You were gone!”
The only trace of Zane when she woke up had been the breakfast he left out.
“And you didn’t eat my breakfast!”
Were they arguing? She couldn’t tell. She was too frantic. Her movements became jerky. Oh, she was coming down from her buzz and the shock had worn off. When she paused to stare at her hands, she found them shaking.
Zane surged from his seat and folded her
into his arms. This still wasn’t right. She knew he shouldn’t be here. No one ever came back. Maybe she had died, and this was just a fever dream in the few seconds before her brain finally stopped running.
Oh, that was morbid. His touch felt too real. When she gripped his shirt and held on, she felt a solid weight. Then, she scowled down at her hands and the fabric in them.
“This is new,” she said, as if there was nothing else in the world she should worry about just then. “Are you stealing clothes from people again? Was that what you were up to all day?”
He hoisted her off her feet and threw her over his shoulder. She bounced down the hall, the living room growing small before disappearing when he turned the corner into her bedroom. Zane tossed her down onto the bed where she bounced, her whole world shaken. When he knelt to crawl across the mattress toward her, she held out her hand.
“Wait! This can’t work this way.”
He blinked. “You need to be more specific.”
Chelsea groaned. Her head was aching. She pressed the heels of her palms to her forehead and tried to summon the words that she really wanted to say.
“You. Me. Disappearing. Not knowing what’s going on. It isn’t going to work.”
She waited for a response. Silence screeched in her ears, a ringing that overwhelmed everything. She thought maybe her words were too jumbled. Zane might not understand what she was trying to explain.
When she opened her mouth to try again, Zane claimed her lips. His kiss was soft, a gentle reminder that he would be there. But he couldn’t promise that. No one could. Hearts changed. Especially those that belonged to men.
“By the way,” he muttered, still close enough that she could silence him with another kiss. “I didn’t steal these clothes. I went to the bank today to reopen my old account. It was never declared dormant because someone has been making deposits for the last ten years.”
Chelsea jerked back. That was a surprise.
Zane (Keepers Of The Lake Book 6) Page 5
