Wolf's Mate

by Celia Kyle

  The smiles were completely gone, replaced with the grim, furious shifter who’d dragged her from the building.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause all this—”

  “Abby.” Declan reached for her, and she didn’t feel the urge to flinch or cower. Not from him. Even though she’d experienced pain at the hands of SHOC members, and what she’d seen him do to the massive tiger, she didn’t fear him. “No reason to apologize. I’m gonna get you safe and keep you safe. Not letting anything happen to you.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Declan whipped the car down another side street, working to get lost in the network of the small downtown roads. It was a convoluted maze of turns and one-way streets he’d memorized a long time ago.

  He knew most of the team hunted them—Birch, Cole, and Ethan racing through the city while directed by Grant. The technological eye in the sky. Declan just had to get them hidden—lost in a part of town that didn’t have cameras and streetlights at every corner.

  Ethan had helped them escape. Would he drag his feet giving Grant any information he had about the Porsche? Probably. Ethan enjoyed annoying the hell out of the other wolf, and Declan was thankful for once for the lion’s dickish behavior.

  Another two turns and he followed those with a sharp third. It brought him into a tight alley, space hardly wide enough for Ethan’s car. No way the SHOC van would fit down the narrow alleyway even if they caught up. Less than an inch on each side? Nah, they were gone.

  Didn’t mean Declan would slow down, though.

  The front quarter panel scraped the brick wall to his left, and he grimaced. Ethan would be one pissed-off pussy at the damage to his car.

  He whipped the wheel around, swinging them onto the next road with a loud squeal of tires. The second he joined the traffic, he brought their speed down to match the surrounding cars. A shot down the interstate for another few miles, then a handful more turns and they’d reach their destination—food, water, and a soft bed. Somewhere he could take care of Abby while he figured out how to fix this mess without them both ending up dead.

  “Where…? Where are we going?” The wolf didn’t like the way her voice trembled.

  “We need to lie low and figure out what to do next. Get you cleaned up.” He glanced at her, hating that she still wore rags that stank of the sea and were stained red with blood. “New clothes. Food. Weapons. New car.”

  “How far—”

  “Close. About ten miles outside of Port St. James.” He reached into his pocket and tugged out his cell phone. A swipe unlocked the device, and it took him no time to fire off a text.

  “Texting? Seriously?” she screeched, and he winced with the high-pitched scream. “I can see my headstone now. ‘Here lies Abby. Death by emoji at eighty miles an hour.’ There will even be a colon and parenthesis to make a cute smiley.”

  Declan rolled his eyes. “I’m a master of multitasking and I’m only doing seventy-five, baby.” He smirked when her growl filled the interior. “I was just contacting a friend.”

  Of sorts.

  He flicked his attention to the rearview mirror—searching for the rest of his team—and a little of his tension eased when he didn’t see them. The traffic had a nice, easy flow. Not too many cars on the highway—just enough to hide them, but still leaving them space to dart past other vehicles if he had to hit the gas. Thankfully, that room wasn’t necessary. He glided across the lanes, the Porsche’s ride smooth as they took the next exit.

  Declan slowly rolled down a long, two-lane road past a handful of houses—his neighbors. They had no idea that the guy down the street was a werewolf who stored enough explosives in his basement to blow up the whole block. He hoped they’d never discover the truth. He liked the house. He really didn’t want to have to blow it up.

  “We’re here.” He turned down his driveway, manicured bushes and trimmed trees bracketing the long concrete lane. His headlights flashed over the swath of green grass that covered his front yard before settling on the ranch-style home set back from the road. It looked like everyone else’s on the street—nothing special as far as the casual observer was concerned.

  His neighbors didn’t need to know that the walls were lined with steel and his windows were bullet resistant. They didn’t need to know about the special surprises he put into place for anyone who thought it’d be a good idea to break into his home, either.

  He followed the driveway around to the back of the house and rolled to a stop in front of the garage.

  He shifted into park and cut the engine. “C’mon.”

  He climbed out and headed toward the back door, stopping only when he realized Abby hadn’t moved. Trying to tamp down his annoyance, he went to the passenger door and tugged it open, lowering to a squat once he had enough room. His irritation vanished when her fear-filled eyes met his.

  Scared. Hurt. Tired. It brought out some hidden caring he didn’t know he possessed.

  “Hey, let’s go inside.” He kept his voice low and tried to be as reassuring as he was capable of.

  Abby’s lower lip trembled, drawing his gaze. Declan wanted to nibble on that plump lip, take her mouth and kiss her so hard and deep she forgot her own name.

  Instead, he reached across her to the seat belt buckle. His chest brushed hers, full breasts flush with his body. He was a piece of shit for liking it, but he did.

  “We’ll get you fed and clean.”

  Her breath fanned his cheek, and the beast howled with its sweetness. The briny tang of the sea couldn’t hide her flavors when they were so close—all sex and honey with a hint of natural musk. It solidified his beast’s assurance that they weren’t letting anything happen to Abby. The wolf wanted to go on, to explain exactly what it desired from her, but Declan cut the beast off.

  The wolf told him he was a delusional idiot if he thought he could just ignore her—and it.

  Well, when the wolf was its own separate being and could talk in complete sentences, its ass could take a chance on Abby.

  “C’mon.” He disengaged the seat belt and retreated, letting the restraint roll back up on its own. “We don’t want to be out here any longer than we have to.”

  “Is…Is SHOC going to find us here?”

  Blue eyes met his, fear and something else battling it out across her features. He wasn’t sure what was on her mind, but he could figure it out in a little while. Like, when they were in the safety of the house.

  “No. This place isn’t registered to me. It’s hidden behind shell corporations and fake names. No one knows I own it.” Or any of his other properties across the world. There was only one other person who knew where he was, and he trusted that person with his life.

  Declan pushed to his feet and held out his hand, waiting for her to show a little trust in him—which she did.

  Abby nodded and placed her palm on his, their fingers curling together while he helped her from the low-slung car. He wanted to keep holding her hand, but he forced himself to release her and take a step back, put a little space between them.

  Otherwise he’d throw her over his shoulder and carry her off. And then she’d really have reason to be afraid.

  “This way.” Declan strode away. His wolf calmed a little when he heard the soft patter of her bare feet on the concrete.

  He paused at the back door, just long enough to rub the thumb pad clean and press his thumb to the smooth surface. A green light flashed and the door’s lock disengaged, granting them entrance to the home’s mudroom. He pulled the door open and stepped back, waiting for her to enter the house before him.

  Except she didn’t budge. Her eyes focused on the blackness beyond them before she tipped her head back and met his stare with her cougar’s eyes. The color as pale as sandy beaches caught a hint of moonlight. His own wolf inched forward, wanting a better look at the she-cat, and he didn’t want to bother pushing it back. Not when fighting the animal meant taking his gaze from Abby.

  He was losing his mind, allowing himself to be
distracted by a woman, when he should focus on getting behind a secure door.

  “Go inside. I can’t disengage the other locks until this door is closed.” Abby jerked with the harshness of his voice, but he’d be damned if he’d apologize. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t make sure she got the first hot shower.

  She shuffled past him, and he stepped into the mudroom, tugging the door shut behind him—shutting out whatever light came from the moon. It snatched his sight, but Declan didn’t need his eyes to see. He had a nose, hands, feet, and a damned good memory. He also had a trembling she-cat whose scent clouded the air with her panic.

  “Abby,” he murmured. “You’re fine. I’m right here.”

  “Dark.” She whimpered, and his wolf snarled, furious that she was so scared even when she was in their presence. The wolf didn’t like that. At all.

  Declan listened to the rasp of her breathing, the thump of her heart, and the shuffle of her feet on the tile. He didn’t need to see to find her. Not when his body was drawn to her in a way that scared the shit out of him. He wanted—needed—Abby too much.

  He reached out, arm circling her waist, and pulled her close while he sought to disengage the other security measures.

  A thumbprint got them through the first door, but there was still more. He placed his palm on the plate set into the wall to the left of the door. The wolf focused and moved forward to change the temperature of his human hand until he matched his wolf form. That change was enough to trigger the next security protocol. From there it was another few tests—blood and both retinas.

  “So much security.”

  Declan shrugged. “I don’t plan on dying today. This’ll keep us safe for tonight.”

  “Only tonight?”

  Declan rubbed his thumb over her cheekbone. “Tomorrow will take care of tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow Declan would put a bullet in anyone who even looked at Abby, but he didn’t think she’d appreciate the sentiment.

  Chapter Twelve

  Tomorrow will take care of tomorrow. It should have comforted her, Abby supposed, but it didn’t. Not when her hands still shook. Not when the pure adrenaline and terror that’d plagued her through their mad dash to safety still flowed heavily in her veins. Her knees threatened to go out from under her at any moment.

  More whirring and clicking as the second door’s lock disengaged and Declan withdrew. His retreat pulled a whimper from her throat, fear forcing the sound past her lips.

  “Hold on to me. I’ll lead you to the living room.” His fingers wrapped around hers, and she clutched him with both her hands, unwilling to release him anytime soon. He didn’t complain about her tight grip and merely gave her a gentle tightening in return. “Ready?”

  No.

  Instead, Abby whispered, “Yeah. Sure.” She couldn’t see him, but she could feel him. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

  Declan huffed but didn’t argue with her. His boots thumped on the hard ground—tile?—and she kept pace. She shuffled along, farther and farther into the blackness before finally…

  Click.

  Low lighting flooded the area, bathing the home in a soft white glow and revealing their temporary sanctuary—pale walls, beige carpet, and large, plush furniture.

  A tug from Declan reminded her she still clutched his hand, still clung to him for support even though she could see with ease now. She should let him go. She could walk on her own. And yet…she didn’t want to release him. They were behind locked doors inside a place Declan considered safe, but she still couldn’t shake her unease.

  When he pulled again, she forced her fingers to uncurl and release him—let him go when all she wanted to do was pull him closer.

  Abby’s cougar purred. Not that close.

  She remained in place while Declan flicked on other lights. More and more of the home was revealed to her—the great room, small dining area, large kitchen, and a dim hallway to Abby’s left.

  So normal-looking, but she knew Declan was anything but normal. Guns, pain, and blood were an everyday occurrence in his world. A man like him…

  She shook her head and shivered, memories of Eric’s attack churning in her mind. A man like Declan had been comfortable punching people out. He didn’t look like the kind of guy who found happiness in the rural hills.

  She shivered again—this time from cold—and rubbed her arms.

  He didn’t spare her a glance as he padded back across the room, heading toward an open door, and she spied a large bed. The master bedroom?

  He disappeared through the doorway and still Abby remained in place, not sure what—

  Declan’s head poked out of the doorway. “You coming?”

  She jerked and nodded. “Yeah, sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. Just c’mon.” He vanished again.

  She shuffled forward on the thick carpet. The deep pile caressed her soles, and the thumping pain in her feet lessened. What she wouldn’t give for a bed just as squishy.

  “Abby?” His voice was like chocolate, silk and smooth and very, very bad for her.

  “Coming,” she whispered. She wasn’t sure why, but she always whispered in the dark. Even with so many lights on, deep shadows remained inside the house. She always kept her voice low. If she talked too loud, she’d be found, and then her parents’ death would have—

  She cut off that line of thinking, destroyed the path her mind wanted to travel. It’d only lead to heartache and pain, to memories that’d bury her in agony and tears.

  Abby stepped into a large bedroom, with its massive king-sized bed. But then her attention immediately went to the adjoining bathroom, as she heard the shower.

  Her cougar surged, anxious to scrub the sea from her skin. She tried to remind the beast that they didn’t know Declan. Did the cat really think getting naked around some violent stranger was a good idea? The animal snorted, and Abby wasn’t sure why she’d even bothered asking. When it came to a cat and getting clean, her feline would always vote for a shower.

  Logic had no place in a battle between scrubbed skin and the stench of the sea. They’d spent too many days—and nights—stinking of the ocean when they were younger.

  Never again.

  She padded across the room, past a large dresser and the expansive bed and further until she stood within the bathroom’s doorway.

  Her breath caught and eyes widened at what she found. While the rest of the house had been a study in neutral tones and bland decorations, the bathroom was…glorious. A shower with at least a dozen showerheads, a massive jetted soaking tub, and a double vanity. Shades of silver accented with hints of bronze were threaded throughout the room, the space bright and airy without appearing feminine.

  Declan leaned into the shower, his back to her, and the position drew his pants snug against his body. The dark fabric clung to his thick thighs and cupped his ass. As for his shirt…it was gone, tossed aside to leave him bare. The muscles of his back clenched and flexed as he reached into the shower, and her fingers tingled with the itch to trace every rise and fall of his body. Then she’d follow that path with her tongue and…No.

  She could fantasize about him later. Specifically, when she was safe.

  Declan withdrew from the shower and turned to face her and she really wished he had remained in place. Not two seconds ago she’d told herself that licking Declan was a bad idea, and now he’d had to show her the deep carving of his abdomen all the way to the lines at his hips.

  “A. Hem.” He coughed, and heat surged in her cheeks.

  She wrenched her attention from those lovely lines and refocused on his face. She ignored the smile that teased his lips and the sensual heat in his eyes.

  “You can take the first shower.” He moved aside, striding to the counter and taking a seat on the gleaming granite surface.

  Abby stared at him and he stared at her and she stared at him staring at her staring at him and…

  “Privacy?” She lifted her eyebrows in question.

  “Shifters aren�
��t modest.” He waved at the shower, water still pattering against the tile. “Get going.”

  She narrowed her eyes, attention pulled from the hot water calling her name to the annoying male who thought privacy didn’t exist. “Shifters aren’t modest during a run, but I’m not used to wandering around with my ass hanging out around strangers.”

  His lips no longer twitched, instead pulling back into a wide, sizzling smile. “That’s one fine ass.”

  “I’m not stripping—”

  The wolf moved fast. Not just fast, but fast. One moment he relaxed on the counter and the next less than an inch separated their bodies. He towered over her, more than six feet of muscular shifter male. His scent filled her nose.

  “I worked too hard to get you here. I’m not ready to let you out of my sight yet,” he murmured, his voice soft yet still somehow loud enough for her to hear over the running water.

  Except when he said “yet,” he made her think he meant “ever.” Her cat was warming to the idea of “ever.”

  Abby shivered. From cold? From fear? From…desire?

  “Declan…” she whispered, not sure what else she meant to say. She just…she liked the feel of his name on her lips. And how screwed up was that?

  Very. The answer was very.

  He reached for her. His large, scarred hands brushed her hair aside, tucking a few strands behind her ear before he ran a single finger down her cheek. “You’re tired, hurt, and dirty. We’ll start with getting you clean and move on from there.” His finger traveled along her cheek to her chin, and then he brushed the pad of his finger over her lower lip. “I saved you. I need to take care of you.”

  “I understand.” Abby nodded and forced herself to remember their situation. She wasn’t his girlfriend, lover, or mate. She was a woman he’d saved and needed to keep healthy until things were resolved.

  “No.” He shook his head. “I don’t think you do.” She opened her mouth to question him, but he quickly withdrew his hand and cupped her shoulder. He nudged her toward the shower. “Get clean. I’ll be here.”