He strolled over to the bar, squeezing past a group of bears. Pounding twice with his fist, he waited for Cleaver to be done serving some shots.
“What is it?” the falcon shifter asked, wiping his hands on a towel before flinging it over his shoulder.
Magic dug for his wallet, and pulled out a few twenties for the man. “Can you tell Owyn I had to split?”
“Sure.” Cleaver quickly counted the money.
“That enough for my tab?” Magic asked.
Cleaver nodded.
“Alright. I’m out.” Another fist bump to the bar, and Magic spun on his heel, anxious to get home.
The drive from Jasper to Hunstville was done in thirty-five minutes instead of an hour, his truck taking curves at speeds that shouldn’t be possible. But something happened as he drove. Something niggled at his mating bond. Something he couldn’t put a finger on, but left him feeling agitated and desperate.
He needed to put eyes on his Mandi. Make sure she was okay.
He thought of her eyes before he’d left. Bloodshot and wet with unnecessary tears. The green of them barely noticeable.
“Promise me you won’t tonight. Just do that one thing for me.”
Frustrated, he jerked his fingers through his hair. “And then what? You going to want my promise every fucking time I leave the house?”
She dashed her tears away, struggling to make them stop. “I don’t want you to be with anyone but me,” she whispered.
“That’s not how this works, Mandi. You know that. You fucking knew that from the beginning.”
“I thought…”
Irritation made him laugh even though nothing was funny. “Thought what? We were different?”
She was silent as more tears rushed down her cheeks.
“Enough of this shit. I’m going to Cleaver’s.”
He’d left without another glance.
Shit.
What was he thinking leaving her like that?
Magic wound through the pines of the dirt road that led to his cabin. It was the only place on this side of the mountain. A remote getaway for the two of them. He’d designed it before they’d mated, hoping it would help assure her. No females for miles.
Moot though, when he could just drive the short distance to Cleavers.
Magic sighed, pulling the truck to a stop right in front of the door.
The lights were off inside. Which meant his mate was already in bed.
He was going to wake her up carefully, by kissing her lips. She loved that. And he was going to say sorry. And make such sweet love to her they’d both forget about the fight. About the cloud of doubt that loomed over their heads. He’d bring her back into that bubble where only the two of them existed and no one else.
As soon as he showered.
Shit. She’d smell the human female on him. But the bar had been packed. Of course there’d be scents.
Magic headed for the door. Using his key, he unlocked it, being careful to keep quiet.
Inside, he took his boots off and removed his shirt. The mirror above the fire place reflected the light of the moon and Magic’s gaze fell to the three small slashes just above his collar bone. His mating mark. The place his Mandi had clawed him the night he claimed her.
He grinned, fingering the scarred spot. She’d surprised him that night. Normally female cats didn’t mark males and she was so docile, the claws were completely unexpected. His animal could have healed it. Could have left him without a scar. But at the time, he’d liked the looks of it. And the idea of her being territorial.
He still did. Except now, her possessiveness was causing them problems.
With a shake of his head, Magic worked his way down the hall to their bedroom. He eased the door open, cursing the squeaky hinge. But as soon as he entered the room, he realized something was… off. He sniffed, and an acrid odor hit his nostrils like a punch.
Mandi lay on the bed beneath the covers. Normal. She loved snuggling under lots of blankets. But…
Something was wrong.
His eyes scanned the room, looking for danger. Nothing stuck out as odd, so why was his panther alert? And what the hell was that smell? Sweet, but pungent. And definitely something that didn’t belong in his bedroom.
His ears perked up to listen for any unusual sounds.
And that’s when he heard it. Not a strange sound, but the lack of a sound that should be there.
Her heartbeat.
There was no thump, thump. No whoosh of blood through her body.
Something inside him snarled and clawed to reach the surface, but instead, he ran to the bed, ripping the covers back.
“No!”
No, no, no.
His mate’s color was all wrong. Bluish instead of the warm peach she normally was. The lids of her eyes were closed as if she was sleeping. But she wasn’t just sleeping. A line of white dripped from the corner of her mouth.