A Mate's Denial(28)

Easing his door open, he went to check her.

She was asleep on the couch, with only a small throw blanket, cradling a bottle of Corona like it was a teddy bear.

His heart lurched in his chest.

She was so beautiful, his mate. And not just her appearance, but her heart. This must be scary for her. It wasn’t how he wanted her to find out about him, about shifters. But now, she’d committed to helping a pack of perfect strangers.

Carefully, he pulled the bottle free of her grasp and set it on the side table. He brushed the curls from her face. Bending close, breathing deep, he took in her scent. It calmed his wolf a fraction more. He buried his nose in her hair, nuzzling. His heartbeat slowed to regular. His breathing calmed. His muscles loosened.

He stared at her sleeping face, recording every detail. Every freckle, curve, and plane.

Lifting her into his arms, he carried her to his bed. He was glad she was a heavy sleeper. As he laid her down, and removed her shoes and khakis, she didn’t stir. Trager undressed and slid into bed behind her, covering them both. He pulled her close, bringing her back to his front so as much of their skin touched as possible.

“What are you doin’?” Her question was slurred with sleep.

“Shh. You need to smell like me tomorrow, and this is the easiest way.”

“Hmm. You’re a… wolf,” she mumbled.

“Yes.”

“In sheep’s… no, sexy man’s… clothin’.”

“Shh. Sleep now.”

She snored with her next breath, and he doubted she’d remember any of this the next morning.

Trager spent the rest of the night running his hands along her arms and legs, imprinting as much of his scent as possible, and relishing the strength her nearness brought. He’d need every bit of it come morning.

When the first rays of light broke through the trees, Trager carefully unwound their bodies and went to make breakfast. He left the plate of pancakes on the table for Kerrigan, swiped her keys from the counter, and drove to her apartment to pack a bag.

It wasn’t until he was rummaging through her bathroom that he realized he probably should’ve brought her along. He could only guess what she needed. From her closet, he pulled several pairs of jeans—she did own something other than tan— a couple sweaters, tee shirts, and a pair of boots that looked too dressy for the mountain. They’d have to do.

The dresser was a different story. He’d hoped to find underwear in the top drawer, but he hadn’t counted on the lacey assortment of thongs, teddies, and garters. He expected black cotton. Like what she’d worn the other night.

Trager became hard, just imagining what his mate would look like wearing these. He picked several pairs of panties, some matching bras, and two skimpy night gowns. And because he knew she was going to kill him for this, he dug through the remaining drawers until he found a pair of yoga pants. A peace offering.

On his way out of the apartment, Trager accidently kicked over a box. Pictures, photographs, spilled onto the rug in a random collage. Bending to pick them up, his eyes landed on one that made his blood cold. It seemed to have been taken some time ago. Kerrigan was a bit thinner, younger. Her smile was bright and beautiful. She was happy, one arm holding the camera out so she could snap the picture, the other was wrapped around a blond-haired man. His expression was bored.

Trager shuffled through the pictures, finding more of Kerrigan and this man. In one, she was kissing his cheek. In another, she was leaned into him while he looked away at something off camera. Trager noticed with each picture he picked up, Kerrigan’s expression grew sadder and sadder, until she was no longer even in the pictures. They were shots of the man, mostly taken when he wasn’t paying attention. At a computer. While he sipped coffee. As he read a book.

Was this the man who’d hurt his mate? The one who’d mistreated her? If so, why had she kept these pictures?

Trager folded one, and jammed it in his pocket before leaving.

When he returned to the cabin, the pancakes were gone, and the shower was running. He knocked lightly on the bathroom door, and cracked it so he could talk to her.

“Kerri?”

“What?” Her voice sounded hollow.

“I brought you some clothes. I’ll leave them on the bed, if you want.”

“Yeah.”

He waited, not sure what else to say.

“We should leave by noon,” he told her.

“Fine.”

Trager let the door click shut, and went to gather the supplies they’d need for camp.

***

The drive south had been quiet. Trager hadn’t said more than two words. The rumble of the road noise needled at Kerrigan’s ears. She was mad. She was scared. She wanted answers. But instead, she’d gotten pancakes. Waking up half naked in Trager’s bed had been unsettling. She needed to smell like him, he’d said. That was all she remembered of the incident. And then finding the suitcase full of her lingerie that he’d plucked from her house… she couldn’t even travel in comfortable panties.