12. Morgan

Chapter 12

Morgan

I wasn't one to take naps, what with the high level of nervous energy I lived with on a daily basis, but after sleeping so poorly last night and then the emotional and physical rollercoaster I'd woken up to, I couldn't resist closing my eyes for just a few minutes. Jude's arms were so warm, his heart beating a steady rhythm under my ear. This was all just so perfect. There was nowhere else on earth I wanted to be.

When I woke up, though, I knew straight away that something was wrong. The empty space in the bed beside me was obviously my first clue, but that emptiness extended far beyond the bedroom. I felt it in my chest too.

I sat up, frowning. "Jude, are you here?" I crawled out of bed reluctantly, dread pressing in from all sides. I stood in the hall, listening. My chest was so tight I could barely draw a breath. "Jude?" I called desperately, a sob catching in my throat. I wanted to believe that he'd come back, that maybe he'd just run to the store to get us something for lunch, but I knew better.

Jude was gone.

I had always lived alone, but this was the first time that my apartment had truly felt devoid of life. Half numb, I grabbed my glasses off the table where Jude had set them what felt like an eternity ago. Afternoon light shone in through the living room window, and I stood transfixed, watching dust motes drifting. What the hell was I supposed to do now?

When I wandered back to bed, my gaze caught on something lying on the bedside table. It was a note, and lying on top was a bronze key. I recognized the shape all too well—it was his key to my apartment. I picked up the note, written in the childish scrawl of someone unused to writing. The words blurred as tears flooded my eyes.

You're better off without me.

My scoff was crazy loud in the silence. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!" I ranted, throwing the note down next to the key and reaching a finger under my glasses to brush away my tears. "There's no way he didn't enjoy the sex. We have a connection!"

Even as I stomped my way to the bathroom, though, I realized that while I'd professed my love, he'd never once said the word. Didn't wolves mate for life? I'd heard that once. Except Jude wasn't a wolf, not really.

But then I paused in the bathroom, my eyes locked on my reflection. "Well, shit."

There were clear bruises around my neck from where he'd grabbed me. No wonder he freaked out. It was a little startling, but if he'd waited for me to wake up so we could talk about it, I would've told him it didn't even hurt! And I definitely hadn't minded one bit while he was doing it. If anything, it had increased the level of pleasure.

I sighed, stroking the outline of Jude's handprint. I had to admit, I kind of liked seeing the evidence of what we'd done. Having his mark on my body for everyone to see satisfied some kind of base caveman instinct.

After a quick shower, I threw on the same clothes I'd been wearing this morning because at least they still smelled a little like him. It was probably safe to assume that Jude wasn't coming back, under some misguided attempt to protect me. Idiot. He had a lot to learn about humans—like how stubborn they could be, because I sure as hell wasn't giving up so easily. That just meant that I would have to go to him.

There was a knock on the door, and my heart soared. "Jude!" I shouted, racing to the door and flinging it wide, prepared to launch myself into his arms.

I just barely stopped in time, a stunned-looking stranger on the other side. "Uh, delivery?" he said, holding up a brown paper bag.

My shoulders caving under a fresh wave of grief, I shook my head. "I didn't order anything. You must have the wrong apartment."

The man glanced at the receipt stapled to the bag and asked, "Morgan?"

"Yeah, that's me."

He shoved the bag at me. "Then this is yours."

I grunted under the sudden weight. It was heavier than a meal's worth of food. I set it down at my feet and pulled open the bag. Inside was a collection of grocery items—vegetables, eggs, a cellophane-wrapped pack of beef—enough food for a whole week at least. The delivery guy was already walking away down the hall toward the elevator. "Hey!" I shouted, jogging after him. "Who paid for all this?"

He turned back to me, his expression a mixture of boredom and exasperation. "Look, I dunno, man. I don't get paid to ask questions. It's all automated. Somebody paid for a grocery delivery to be dropped off every week. That's all I know."

"Every week?!" I squeaked.

The guy shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

"For how long?"

He shrugged again. "Not sure. Until they cancel, I suppose." He pressed the button to call the elevator, and I heard the motor kick into gear. I only had a few more seconds.

"Can you tell me how it's being paid for? Is it with a credit card?" I was grasping at straws, which quickly turned into me gripping the guy's shirt sleeve. "Please, you've gotta give me something ."

The elevator door opened, and he went to step inside, but I was still hanging on tight. He sighed, then held a hand out to stop the elevator from closing. "Lemme check." He pulled out his phone and tapped away for a second. "Not a credit card. The payments are coming from a bank account under the name… Grim Wilds? That's a weird name."

"A bank account… Okay… Thanks." I backed away slowly while the elevator closed, headed back down to the main floor. I wasn't sure what I'd expected to get from him, but this just gave me more questions than answers .

I was shuffling back to my open apartment door when I heard someone call my name. "Hey, Morgan. Fancy seeing you here. You've been dodging me so long, I was beginning to wonder if you'd moved out without telling me."

Just when I thought things couldn't get worse… Wincing, I turned back to see my landlord Al standing at the end of the hall, smirking, with a cocked eyebrow. "Al, hey… uh, about that overdue rent. I—"

He held his hand up, cutting me off, as he walked down the hall toward me. "As much as I'm tempted to let you squirm for a bit, I'll let you off the hook. The rent has been taken care of."

My jaw dropped. "Taken care of? What's that supposed to mean? Am I being evicted? I thought you said I had until the end of the month!"

Al's feathery black hair gleamed almost purple in the hall light as he shook his head. "No, no! You're all good. I meant your mate paid what you owed and covered next month too. You know, that guy is one intense dude. Not much one for manners, but I sure as hell wasn't about to remind him to say thank you. He looked like he could snap me in two without breaking a sweat."

While I vaguely registered what he was telling me—that Jude had paid my rent!—my mind had snagged on one specific word, and I couldn't seem to get past it. "Um, what do you mean by ‘mate,' exactly?"

"You don't know?" Al cocked his head, scrutinizing me with those dark eyes, his gaze trailing over the bruises on my neck. "You know what he is… right?"

I narrowed my eyes at Al, trying to decide how much he knew. "Yes…" I answered slowly, deciding that was a safe answer without giving anything away. "How do you know? Are you also…?" I trailed off and let him fill in the blanks.

He seemed to mull over what kind of vague answer to give back, finally saying, "Yes, of a different sort." Al crossed his bony arms over his narrow chest. "Well, being mates means there's a connection between you, kinda like he's your boyfriend but… more."

"He's mine," I said on a sigh, feeling a wave of relief and certainty. I'd been saying this for months, but for the first time, I felt like I was saying it to the right person to understand.

"Exactly," my landlord agreed. "Anyway, you need to work out the logistics with Mr. Big Bad and Broody and leave me out of it."

Mate . The word echoed over and over inside my mind. It felt so right, so perfect, to describe what I felt about Jude. Al left, but I remained standing where I was in the open door of my apartment, unsure what to do with this new information. It was pretty obvious that Jude felt something for me, something at least as intense as what I felt. I mean, he was buying my groceries, paying my rent—food and shelter, providing for me in a sort of modern version of what a wolf would do for a mate.

And he left because he thought it was the right thing to do.

"Well, fuck that," I muttered, turning and storming back into my apartment. "I'll just have to tell him that he's wrong. End of story."

I dug through my dresser and pulled out an old pair of thermal underwear and some wool socks, dressing as warmly as I could. It would get cold in the woods, but if I left right now, I could potentially find him before dark.

The sun was already moving steadily toward the horizon by the time I parked my car at the usual place, in the pullout often used by hikers. I hopped out and slipped on my small backpack. I still hadn't replaced all my camping gear, but I hoped I wouldn't need it. Instead, I just had bottled water and some of the granola bars Jude had bought me. I figured it would be good to travel light so I could move faster.

Using the tug in my chest as a compass, I headed down the trail at a fast clip. My breath came out in white puffs in the chilly air, but since I'd started all this hiking and camping at the beginning of the summer, my fitness level had gotten steadily better. My legs didn't burn the same way they had that first trip, and I was able to keep a steady pace without panting.

I stepped off the path when I felt drawn to, but just because a straight line was the shortest route, that didn't mean it was the easiest. The brush grew too close, sharp barbs ensnaring my jacket and pants. "Fuckity fuck," I cursed, trying to back out. I heard the telltale sound of fabric tearing. Dammit, I would have to go around.

Stomping back the way I'd come, I had intended to simply backtrack and find a new path through. What I hadn't expected, though, was to run headlong into another hiker, since I was so far off the trail. "Oh, sorr—" I began, but my words were choked off when the face beneath the knit cap registered. "You again!" Fucking creeper Eric!

He wasn't smiling this time. His eyes were hard chips of ice, his mouth set in a hard line. It was hard to believe I'd ever found him charming. And it was clear he hadn't intended to be caught following me. "Morgan," he said in greeting. When his gaze shifted to my neck, I pulled the scarf up, covering any marks he might see.

We glared at each other for a long, tense moment. I appreciated that he didn't bother spewing his lame excuses. It was pretty obvious why he was here; there was no way he could pass this off as a coincidence.

Eric's mouth twisted into a cruel grimace. "It's really quite selfish, when you think about it, keeping your wolf to yourself like this. You owe it to mankind to share him with the world."

"You're crazy if you think I'll just hand him over to you," I spat, shoving my way past him. I couldn't keep going now, because it would just lead this lunatic straight to my mate.

He laughed harshly behind me, without any real humor. "What's crazy is that you think he's yours in the first place. If anything, he's mine ."

"He will never be yours!" I yelled over my shoulder, picking up the pace, trying to get the hell away from him.

I heard his footsteps crashing through the brush behind me. "I will find him, with or without your help!"

It quickly became clear that Eric wasn't in nearly as good of shape as I was, and he didn't know the terrain like I did. There was no sign of him behind me by the time I reached my car. There was only one other vehicle, a black SUV, which I assumed belonged to Eric. It was nearly full dark, and I hoped the creepy asshole got lost in the woods and was eaten by wolves. I drove home, and even as I felt the distance stretch between me and my mate, I vowed that I would find my way back to him. This couldn't be the end. I refused to believe it.

Four whole weeks. That was how much time had passed since I last saw Jude, my true love, my mate. Four weeks since I ran into Eric in the woods. Also, four grocery deliveries, another month of rent paid, and more sleepless nights than I could count.

I'd had every intention of heading straight out to the woods again the next day, but when I'd looked out the window, there'd been a black SUV parked at the curb outside—the same SUV, in fact, as had been sitting at the trailhead, if I wasn't mistaken. There was someone sitting in the driver's seat, and I didn't need to see who it was to know.

"He can't possibly just sit out there and wait for me to leave again… can he?"

It turned out he didn't need to camp out in front of my apartment, though, because once the seed was planted, it bloomed into full-fledged paranoia. Even when he wasn't in sight, I had this awful feeling that he was just waiting right around the corner. Or maybe he put a GPS tracker on my car! No matter what, I didn't feel safe going back out to the woods without being followed, and there was zero chance I was going to put my mate at risk.

The stress of the situation slowly ate away at me. I was tired, scared, and entirely alone. Most mornings I could barely keep my breakfast down after the nightmares I had. I was tired, sick, and depressed. The days got shorter, and winter moved in, and still, I didn't leave my apartment. I really needed to take a shower, but I just didn't see the point anymore. I spent most nights curled up in a ball on my sofa watching nature programs about wolves.

Sometimes I peeked outside around the edge of the curtain, and I swore I saw pawprints in the snow outside. The fire inside me would briefly flare back to life, before I would stuff it right back down. I couldn't afford that kind of hope; it would break me. It was probably just a stray dog.

My phone rang, and I glanced at the call display. It was my psychiatrist. I let it go to voicemail then listened to her message. " Hi, Morgan, it's Dr. Hildahl. I just wanted to check in with you because you missed our last appointment. I noticed that you haven't filled your prescription. Could you give me a call, just to let me know how you're doing? "

I had no intention of calling her back. She would never understand.