Chapter 10

I feel the moment the bond breaks, like a cold hand reaching into my chest and pulling the last remaining strands of our bond from around my heart, painfully.

It happens while I'm standing in a car park, trying to figure out which vehicle matches the set of car keys I've just stolen. My knees give way, and I collapse, grateful it's dark and no one is around to see. I could do without drawing attention to myself while I attempt to steal a car.

Clicking the unlock button, I could cry with relief when the lights that flash amber are in the same row as me. I drag myself from car to car, determined that if I can just get inside and lock the doors, everything is going to be okay.

Wrenching open the door, I fall into the seat, gasping for breath and clutching at my chest through the thin nightdress I borrowed from a clothes line a few miles back.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I try not to think about what this pain means.

Yes, it means Lee is dead, but it also means he can never hurt me again.

My body hurts from the severed connection, but another strange feeling begins creeping through me, and my heart feels light.

Is that because I already broke my side of the bond? I did reject Lee on the steps of the pack house, right before I ran for my life.

The stranger's eerily calm eyes fill my mind and I swear I hear him telling me to keep going. I'm still not safe yet; now, neither is he.

"Thank you," I speak aloud into the night air. "I'll never forget this."

"Run," he whispers, his words in my mind feel so real I shiver. Turning the ignition, I anxiously cast my eyes around the parking lot to make sure nobody's watching, then I do the only thing I can: leave him behind and never look back.

Startled,I jolt awake from my fitful sleep, my brow sweating, and my blood pumping.

Used to poor sleep, my mind immediately switches to high alert, checking my surroundings for danger and searching for what it was that roused me from my slumber. I've spent half of my life waiting for my alpha to burst through the door. To say I'm a light sleeper is an understatement.

The floorboards creak first on the stairs, then I hear slow, careful footsteps in the corridor just outside my door. I hold my breath, tugging the covers up over my shoulders, and sliding further down the bed.

Tyson stops right outside my room, and my heart pounds, adrenaline coursing through me from replaying the memories of that night, and some more hot and heavy dreams my mind has concocted over the years. Even though he can't see me, and my room remains shrouded in the darkness of the heavy blackout curtains, I blush like I've been caught doing something shameful, rather than spending the night curled up on the floor.

"Breakfast is ready, if you're hungry," Tyson growls, his voice so near to me making me jump. My heart pounds in confusion as I try to scramble up the bed, surprised by his proximity, but as my hands hit cold wooden floor and I feel the scratchy rug under my legs, I realise I'm not in the soft, sumptuous bed like I should be.

Tyson grunts when I don't answer immediately, sounding like my company is the last thing he wants. It's barely past sunrise, and he's already pissed-off.

Is this what my life would be like living with a half-wolf, half-vampire? Would he blow hot and cold, or remain one-hundred percent grumpy-alpha all the time?

Not that I'm entertaining staying here.

I only agreed to come with Tyson so that he'd leave Zoe and the Steel pack alone. Obviously, I want to get to know my mate, and the fairytale ending would be to find a way to make it work, but the reality is looking decidedly less like a fantasy as the hours pass. There isn't any sign of my Prince Charming looking to sweep me off my feet.

Instead, he waits, huffing when I continue my pretence of being asleep, then slowly moving away.

Shaking my head to empty it of all fanciful thoughts of remaining with Tyson and finding a way to be together, I push up on my elbows and then sit, staring numbly out the window. Rubbing at my aching eyes, I feel like burying down under the cosy duvet, but that wouldn't be right. Tiredness seeps my aching bones, and my body screams at me for stupidly not sleeping in this plush bed.

I curse the condition that sometimes makes waking up an interesting surprise. I don't really understand how sleepwalking works, just that it's a pain in the ass.

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I summon the energy to stand and yank back the curtains. A harsh, bright slice of sunlight, pouring in through the large rose window, hits my eyes, and I squint, wishing I could crawl back under the luxurious covers for another couple of hours. Maybe I could get some proper sleep without temptation beckoning me from across the hall.

It feels like it was only five minutes ago that I woke up cold and confused.

Judging by my bruised shins, and the slightly askew chair, my addled mind decided I didn't want to sleep in this room. Tyson's scent calls to me even now, colouring my thoughts and making me hot and needy. I have a pretty good idea of where I was trying to go.

Thank God I didn't get out.

"Bad brain," I chastise, staggering toward the bathroom to freshen up. My favourite products line the shelves, and I groan, frustrated that I can't get a read on this guy.

Thoughtful mate, or crazed and vengeful murderer? Weird stalker for somehow getting intel on what shampoo I use, or overly enthusiastic wolf trying to satisfy his potential partner?

Maybe all of the above?

Splashing my face with cold water to wash away that groggy feeling, I ignore the clawfoot copper tub in the corner of my ensuite. I'll have a date with that bath later when I can properly relax, and Tyson isn't waiting for me, impatient and pissed off.

Letting my fingers trail along the bannister, registering all the dark and dramatic details I was too tired to take in yesterday, I can't decide whether I'm in a horror film or an old classic. I follow my nose to the dining room where Tyson waits, fingers drumming on the table beside him. There's an elaborate spread of food on the table, and a steaming pot of coffee sits in the middle. It's got my name written all over it.

As I approach, he looks up from his book and tracks my movement but says nothing. Slipping into the only other chair, kitty-corner from him, I keep my gaze fixed on the piles of pastries and bowls of fruit to avoid getting lost in his hypnotic eyes. He can't know that my subconscious tried to force me to find him last night, but it feels like he knows something.

Like he can see my deepest, darkest secrets.

As I squirm under his scrutiny, he grunts.

"Sleep well?" His clipped tone drips with a scorn I don't expect.

Although, maybe I deserve it for not answering when he came to my door.

"Not really," I admit, rubbing my sore lower back and studying him cautiously.

He grunts again, looking at me with barely concealed irritation and returning to his book. When it's clear we've seen the extent of his small talk, I reach over and take a croissant, the buttery smell enough to make my stomach rumble.

"If you hadn't fled to your room last night, there was dinner for you. You wouldn't be so hungry," he comments, turning the page but still refusing to look in my direction again.

"Oh. You never said." Tyson huffs at my response and my temper flares. "And I didn't flee. I just wasn't keen on meeting Lucian after an exhausting day."

Tyson folds the corner of the page he's reading, like a savage, and closes the book. His gaze is steady, expression serious. I love a man who reads. There's something so sexy about it. Or maybe it's just Tyson? He oozes charm and confidence, even as he openly seethes.

"But not Seth." His tone is caustic.

I've clearly done something to anger him, but I can't work out what it was.

"Excuse me?"

I haven't met Seth, or Lucian, so I'm not sure what he's getting at. Tyson huffs again, stretching across the table, and lifting the coffee pot, pouring me a strong mug, and passing me the milk. Even when he's mad, I must admit he has good manners.

"So, you're worried about Lucian, the vampire, but not Seth, the feral rogue wolf," he clarifies bitterly, all the while spooning a selection of fresh fruits into a bowl and passing it to me along with some yoghurt and granola.

"Well, to be blunt: yes." I stare hard at him as understanding dawns on me. "I understand wolves. I was rogue for years myself, as you know, but I know next to nothing about vampires."

He leans back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, showing off some impressive biceps, and his shoulders are bunched and tight. So, he isn't pissed-off: he's offended. Or hurt.

"And you're going to find out about vampires by locking yourself away in your room?"

Taking a sip of my coffee, moaning quietly in ecstasy at the creamy cup of heaven, I close my eyes, praying for strength. When I open them, Tyson's heated gaze is locked onto my lips and I squirm. The bond pulls tight across the small distance between us, and I feel my insides coiling.

Even when he's mad at me, he's gorgeous.

The red in his eyes glints in the bright room, and I find it strangely hypnotic, not scary. I can't stop myself from staring at his rugged features, even as he glowers at me across the feast he has prepared.

"Are we talking about all vampires, or just you?"

It seems like a reasonable question to me, but Tyson doesn't appear to think so. Standing suddenly, he throws his hands out to the sides.

"I am a vampire. Maybe you wish I wasn't, sometimes I wish I wasn't, but that train has left the station, sweetheart." Tyson raises his voice.

I know he's mad, and maybe I should be terrified, but as he raises his arms, his t-shirt lifts, and my attention drifts to the slash of exposed skin.

I can't stop staring at the few inches of rock-hard stomach, and the line of dark hair that disappears into his waistband. My mouth waters as I imagine tracing that with my fingertips, or maybe my mouth. The muscles in his chest and arms bulge as he stands there, glowering at me, waiting for an answer to a question I didn't hear.

When my tongue darts out to wet my lips, his eyes narrow, and his expression shifts.

"You're not immune to our bond, little mate, yet you're so terrified of what I am that you need to barricade your door to keep me out?" Resting his palms on the table, he leans forward, and his scent floods my senses. "What's it going to be, Mandy? Do you want to do this or not?"

I close my eyes and breathe him in, relishing in how his presence sets my senses alight. It's heavenly and every cell in my body wants to get even nearer to him, to taste him, touch him, kiss him.

Doing this, whatever this is, sounds like a brilliant idea.

The hair on the back of my neck stands as he moves closer, his breath close to my cheek and his presence setting my nerves on edge.

"Whatever you think of me, I won't break into your room to take you in the middle of the night. Much as I might want to. You are my mate to cherish and adore. I am nothing like that monster."

I feel his body moving away like a loss, and my wolf whimpers. She wants him closer, not further away.

She wants to know what being cherished and adored feels like.

I should correct him. I could clear this up by telling him that it wasn't him I was locking out, but myself that I was locking in. When I blink my eyes open and see the fury in his eyes, I know now isn"t the time.

"If I thought you were anything like Lee, I wouldn't be here. Nothing could make me go back to a life like that. Maybe I should be afraid of you, but I'm not."

The fire in his eyes fades as my words sink in, and he senses the truth in them. Taking a step back, he seems uncertain what to do now that his temper is fading. When he finally takes a breath, and catches a hint of my arousal in the air, he looks confused. We stare at each other while the air crackles, unsure where to go from here.

I'm about to leave, needing to escape this overwhelming energy, but Tyson moves toward the end of the table, and I'm frozen in place, like a deer caught in headlights. My breath hitches as Tyson gets nearer, his attention locked squarely on me. Suddenly, the door crashes open and slams hard against the wall.

We both jump apart as a pale-grey, fluffy wolf bounds into the room. I shove my chair back as he brushes past and stands on hind legs, two paws on the dining table, snatching a danish off the platter.

"Seth! For fucks sake, get out!" Tyson looks embarrassed as he waves his arms at the animal, pulling the food out of his reach. Seth growls, the corner of his lip lifting and showing pearly white fangs digging into crumbly golden pastry.

Belatedly, the wolf registers my presence and drops back to all fours and sniffs. He lets out a muffled yip, nudging my thigh with his shiny, damp nose, leaving a smear of dribble and crumbs, then dashes for the door with his spoils.

Brushy tail wagging and a self-satisfied bounce in his step, he's the least threatening feral wolf I've ever seen. Looking back at Tyson, his hands on his hips, head tilted back and his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, he stares at the ceiling.

"So, that's the feral rogue?" I lift my cup to my lips. "Absolutely terrifying. You're right; clearly, I should be very concerned about him. Maybe if I stock up on pastries, he won't eat me alive."

Tyson scowls at the amusement in my voice.

"It's the food… he's not always…" Tyson scrambles and it's pleasing to watch. Finally, he shrugs. "He's not normally like that." When I nod and give him a small smile, it seems to irritate Tyson more. "He's not. You'll see."

Deciding to give him a break, I let my gaze wander around the ornate room, the long, deep-red curtains, and the wrought iron light fittings. Everything is dark and luxurious, rich and sumptuous. Normally I like bright and airy décor, but the drama of my surroundings is growing on me.

"So, what do we do now, Tyson? Now that you have me where you want me, what are you planning to do?"

His eyes flash and my heartbeat picks up as we both think the same thing. This isn't even close to where he wants me. Or where I want to be. Before the scorching heat between us sets the tablecloth alight, I push to my feet and drift toward the window.

"Can we go for a run? My wolf wants to get her bearings." And you won't let me out on my own, I want to add, but decide that antagonising him at every turn isn't going to get us anywhere.

Tyson's eyes light up. "I'd love to run with you." His tone is hushed, and I turn, our eyes locking. He looks so happy. My knee-jerk urge is to tell him that it's not about wanting to run with him but about being safe; looking at his delighted expression, saying it would be like kicking a puppy.

And the truth is, my wolf really does want to meet his. No funny business, I warn her as we move toward the back door. She's so excited about this that I'm worried she'll offer herself to him the second I shift.

The tall trees sheltering the rear of the property cast cool shadows across the exposed deck. Shifters are used to nudity, normally it means nothing to us and we're not embarrassed about stripping off, but this is my mate. It feels different.

Unabashed, Tyson's stare holds a challenge as he pins me with his unusual eyes. Reaching one arm back over his shoulder, he grabs a fistful of material and yanks his black t-shirt over his head in one smooth movement. I blink, knowing that if I move at all, if I break eye contact, my gaze will go straight to his sculpted chest, the rippling abs I can see in my peripheral vision, and down that dark line I know leads into his jeans.

Tyson's belt clinks as he opens it, pops the top button, and lowers his fly.

A hint of a smile pulls at the edges of his mouth as he bends at the waist and pulls off his heavy boots. While he sets them to the side, neatly shoving his socks into each one, I stare transfixed at the way the muscles in his broad back flex and bunch with each movement.

My fingers itch to touch him and the impulse to run my hands from his big shoulders down along his spine while he's doubled over, into the top of his now-loose jeans, is overwhelming.

When he straightens, I jump back, unable to stop the pink that spreads across my cheeks. His smug smile tells me he knows I was taking the opportunity to perve on him.

"You can look all you want, little mate." Hooking his thumbs into the sides of his jeans, he pushes them down and steps out in one swift movement. Keeping my attention fixed firmly on his face, I attempt to ignore the bobbing length that now stands to attention between us. It's impossible though, to pretend it's not there, his erection, long and thick, pointing right at me. "You can do more than look."

I can't bring myself to look, but I see his arm move once, up and down. Fuck, did he just stroke his cock? Swallowing hard, a needy whimper escapes me as he inches closer, his manly smell heavy in the air and his nakedness frying my brain.

"Your turn," he whispers, thick and husky.

I shiver. Does he mean it's my turn with his cock? My wolf is ready for us to roll over. Or maybe drop to our knees to taste the cum I can already smell leaking from his hard cock. Scary gothic mansion in the woods and vampire tendencies be damned. This is fate.

My mouth opens and closes, opens and closes.

"Mandy? It's your turn to strip."

Strip! Fuck, yes! That's what he meant. I shake my head and blink, trying to clear the trance those hypnotic ruby eyes have me under.

"Well, turn around then," I snap, flustered and frustrated. One eyebrow raised, as though he knows I'm fighting to remain composed here, he turns, slowly, oh-so-slowly, and stands as proudly as any man showing his ass to a woman for the first time ever has.

I bite my lip, sinking my teeth in until it's painful to stifle another groan. It's perfect.

I want to dig my nails into his firm flesh, marking him in some way. Instead, I act like someone who hasn't lost their mind, pulling off my leggings and vest quickly, stashing them with my underwear on a bench at the back door. Watching Tyson twitch and fidget, his fingers flexing at his sides as he battles the impulse to turn and look his fill. We're mates after all.

"Ready?" he asks, voice low and gravelly. Oh, he's a man on the edge alright. He turns and then, when he sees I haven't shifted yet, curses, more a pained grunt than actual words. His dark hair falls into his eyes as his heated gaze travels over every inch of my body, licking a scorching path over my exposed skin.

"You're even more incredible than I remember."