Drumming my fingers against the steering wheel of my rental car, I go over every nuance of the past two nights in my redheaded waitress’s presence. I can recall with perfect clarity how I calmed the moment she spoke. How an awareness whipped through me the second I touched her hand. How her scent wrapped around me, pulling me from my depression.

I’d thought myself lucky to find a female I could use as a distraction. Someone I could fuck when I needed relief. Tonight…the kiss we shared…it freakin’ shattered my convictions, destroying my plans.

My path is set. It’s selfish. No doubt about it. As a widower, I can’t give her everything she deserves. I have no choice, though. I can’t let her go. There’s no mistaking our connection. I know it in my soul.

She’s my true mate.

All shifters grow up hearing the stories of a love so pure and right, it transcends time. It’s a gift from the goddesses themselves, something to be fought for and treasured. It’s why the goddesses allowed shifters the ability to soul-bond, so true mates could tie their souls together for eternity.

Hell, I even remember a pair of shifters from my birth pack who’d gravitated to each other as children. They were inseparable: best friends, then devoted lovers. They mated, soul-bonding the moment they’d matured, and lived out their short lives together. When the female died in childbirth, so did her mate. He went with a smile on his face, saying he’d follow her anywhere.

The elders of the pack claimed that since their devotion was so beautiful and unbreakable, they must’ve soul-bonded in a previous lifetime and only renewed their bond in this lifetime. I don’t know if that’s true or not. Never gave love much thought until I took a breeding partner. Then, I’d wondered what the difference was between the supposedly rare and special love true mates felt and what everyone else experienced. ’Cause, I did love the female I’d picked to walk through the centuries with. Hell, I still do. I miss her too. It’s just…

I fold my arms over the top of the steering wheel and drop my forehead against them. When she made me promise to live and love again, I agreed. Only after the life faded from her eyes did I think I should follow her. That it was the right thing to do. Tonight, I learned why I never did, even when the guilt manifested into a tempting voice that haunted my every waking moment.

I raise my head and study the employee parking lot of the Black Widow. The spot where my waitress’s old van sat is empty. I’m not sure when she left. Sometime between when I went to look at the apartment out back and when I left with a key to my temporary home. But my soul and my body yearn for her. I want to touch her again. Learn her name. Listen to her talk about her life before me. Then I want to claim her future.

First, I need to find her.

I dig out my cell and debate my choices. Josh would be the logical person to hit up for information about her. By now, he’s probably home. He left right after handing me my key. He’s got a pregnant mate, though. A young kid too. I can’t call and risk waking them up. I don’t have phone numbers of anyone else who works at the bar either.

I do have Uri’s number, however.

His pride has a special interest in the Black Widow. Josh’s mate, Mira, was a member of Uri’s pride before she mated Josh. It wouldn’t surprise me if Uri knew the life story of everyone who works at the Black Widow. Or at least where they live. Feline shifters are excessively protective of their family and friends. An employee of the bar might not make that list, but it’s worth a try.

I select his contact information and dial.

Uri answers on the first ring. “Hello.”

“I need information.”

“For the case?”

Uri’s voice sounds groggy. I must’ve woken him. I guess I should feel bad about that, but I don’t. I need to learn my hot waitress’s name and where she lives. Now. She’s out there somewhere without me protecting her. There’re already guys sniffing around her. She carried their stench. Friends, she’d called them. That’s fine. They need to learn that’s all they can ever be.

“No, personal, but it’s important.” My gaze drifts to the section of the wall where my life changed. “Do you remember seeing the waitress who brought me the bourbon you sent back?”

“Mya? Yes, I remember.”

Mya.

I close my eyes. The name fits her. It’s strong, yet soft. Perfect.

“Do you know where Mya lives?”

“No. I’ve never spoken to her.”

Shit. “Do you know anyone who does?”

“Why don’t you ask her tomorrow? She seems to work a lot. She’s been there every day I have.”

“It can’t wait. She left something important at the bar. I want to get it to her.” Not technically a lie. I am important. At least to her. No man will be able to love her the way I can. Now that she’s touched me, she won’t ever be satisfied with anyone else. Neither will I.

“I’ll text Josh, then send you the address.”

“Wai—” The call ends before I can finish the word. I could’ve texted Josh myself. Too late now.

After a couple of minutes, a text pops up with Mya’s address. It’s only a few minutes from here. I start the car and head out there.

The time displayed on the dashboard catches my eye: 11:27 p.m. It’s not exactly late, but she might be in bed. No matter how much I want to see Mya, I don’t want to wake her. I slow the car. Her needs come before mine. If she works a lot, she should get a good night’s sleep. Doesn’t mean I can’t check on her. I can watch over the place tonight and catch her in the morning. Besides, it’ll give me time to figure out how I’m going to approach her.

Yeah, the time sitting in this car might be essential. I have to come up with enough reasons she’d want to give me a chance. It’s not as if I can ever be the male she deserves, one who can provide her with babies and a soul-bond that’ll guarantee we’ll find each other again. All I can offer her is my commitment and passion.

For some females, that’s enough. I won’t know what type of woman Mya is until I talk to her. Just because she’s my true mate doesn’t mean she’s perfect. It just means she’s my gift from the goddess, the one female who can bring me peace. My only shot at heaven on earth.

Her apartment building comes into view. My gaze zeroes in on Mya standing in the lot with a guy. My wolf stirs. His snarl rumbles within me. He slams into my chest. My body jerks with the force of his demand to be set free. Never before has he asserted his will on me so fiercely. My wolf wants blood. This guy’s blood. He means our true mate harm.

Maybe he does. Maybe not. My wolf’s randomly violent behavior isn’t new. I take my foot off the gas pedal, letting the car drift to a stop, and turn my attention to the parking lot.

Hands planted on her hips, Mya stands on her tiptoes and says something to the guy. She points to the woods. Anger tightens her features, but rage contorts his face. He shoves Mya, knocking her backward a few feet. She lands on her ass and moves her hands to her stomach, cradling herself as if she’s hurt. With his hands fisted, he stands over Mya, looking down at her.

Screaming at my true mate.

I’m out of the car in the next second. I run, drawing on my wolf’s strength to propel myself faster. A floodlight turns on, giving me a good look at Mya’s assaulter. He’s a shifter, a wolf shifter, and a damn powerful one at that.

The front door of her apartment opens. The guy leaning aggressively over Mya takes off into the woods. I want to go after him, hurt him. He might be powerful, but so am I. Concern for my true mate overrules my instinct to punish, for now.

“Mya!” I yell at the same moment as an older human female rushes out the front door.

Mya looks in my direction. Her eyes widen. She turns to the human and says something before frantically shooing her back inside. The female gives me a questioning look but complies.

I hunker down next to Mya. The scent of her attacker clings to her. It’s the same stench she’d carried the last two times I’ve been close to her. Not strong, but enough to make me gag. My chest expands on my rougher breaths. Why has he been touching Mya? It’s obvious she doesn’t want him near her. She’d ordered him to leave. Instead, he shoved her.

The rage building within me is close to bringing my wolf. I focus on Mya’s face. She’s more important than my possessiveness. Heart racing, I cover her hands with mine. “Are you okay?”

Mya closes her eyes. A few seconds pass before she smiles. “Yes, fine.”

She moves to stand. I grasp her elbow and support her back, helping her even though she doesn’t need it. A shifter’s body can take a lot of damage. That shove might’ve been hard enough to knock Mya back a few feet, but it was nowhere near violent enough to cause any lasting damage. Maybe a bruise. That’s it. The knowledge doesn’t stop me.

With a hand still on her belly, she studies my face. “What are you doing here?”

“I was driving by and saw that guy arguing with you. Who is he?”

Her brows turn down. “What were you doing driving by here? This is the edge of town. There’s nothing out this way.”

I hesitate. Truth or a lie? I don’t know how Mya will react to the news we’re true mates. She might not even believe in that sort of thing. Many younger shifters I’ve met think it’s a romanticized myth. They also don’t understand why anyone would want to soul-bond to another person. The ultimate mating bond is a risk. If one mate dies, so does the other. Most opt for a breeding bond where the male gives a piece of his soul to the female he wants to have babies with.

Soul-bonding’s not an option in my and Mya’s case, unfortunately. Neither is becoming breeding partners. I already gave a piece of my soul away. All I have left is a hole and a shitload of regret. Doesn’t mean I can’t worship Mya until my dying breath, though. Which is what I plan on doing.

Mya shakes off my hold and steps back. “Are you stalking me, Rick Lyall?”

Shock stills my body. “You know my name.”

“Yes.” She frowns. “I called you Rick back at the bar.”

My name in her husky voice left me hard too. Crazed with the need to touch her. I didn’t stop to think how she knew it. Or what else she knows about me. Maybe that I’m a widower and can’t give her babies. Can’t soul-bond to her. Can’t love her the way she deserves. Those are things I wanted to tell her. Guess it doesn’t much matter. Soon, she’ll learn every detail.

“You didn’t tell me your name.” I close the space she’d put between us but I don’t reach for her. After the way that asshole knocked her around, she might be a bit skittish. I don’t want her escaping inside. “I asked for your name. Twice.”

Mya glances over her shoulder at where I left my rental car, door wide open, in the road.

“You found out what it is. And where I live.” She whips her head to glare at me. “Why did you come out here? Did you expect me to invite you inside just because your kiss made me feel things I never have before?”

The confirmation she feels our connection, even if she might not understand it, should make me happy, but her accusatory tone sets me on edge. I’m treading on thin ice. She’s acting like a woman who’s been hurt. Maybe used and tossed away. She needs to know I won’t do the same.

“I admit I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” I lower my voice, letting the lust bleed through. “You’ve triggered my instincts. Nothing was going to stop me from finding you and watching over your place tonight. You’re mine to protect now.”

Panic settles over her features. She shakes her head, making her hair dance around her face. “No, no. You’ve got to be mistaken. You’re probably horny. It’s close to the full moon. It’s natural.”

“It is natural.”

“See?” Relief wipes the panic from her face. She blows out a breath and points toward town. “If you’re horny, there’s an alley a few blocks from the Black Widow where prostitutes hang out. You can pick up a hooker there pretty cheap.”

As if I’d ever be able to touch another woman. When I commit to a female, it’s exclusive. With Mya, it’ll be forever.

“My dick’s not my reason for coming here.” I brush my knuckles along her jaw. “You are. Not sex.” I grin. “But I wouldn’t turn it down if the night leads us to that point.”

A look of wonder turns her eyes into gemstones. She skims her delicate fingers along her jaw, the same path I’d traced. “What are you, Rick Lyall?”

It’s an odd question. She knows what I am: a wolf shifter. I have a better answer for her, however.

I slip my arm around her waist and pull her body against me. The moment her curves touch mine, my wolf lays its head on its paws and calms. So do I. This is where I’m supposed to be. I’ll fight with everything I have to stay here.

With my chin, I brush her hair from her neck and press my lips to the spot right below her ear. She shivers and clutches my shirt, holding on to me. “I’m yours, Mya. And you’re mine.”

A wolf’s howl cuts through the night. In my human form, I can’t tell if it’s a shifter or not. My wolf doesn’t stir, lending me to believe it’s nothing to worry about. Mya does, however.

She pushes away from me and points to my car. Her hand shakes. “You need to leave. Now.”

I glance from her trembling fingers to her face. Protective instincts flare. “You don’t need to worry about that guy. He won’t hurt you anymore.”

She looks in the direction the other shifter had run. The tremor in her hand worsens. Seeing her fear stabs me in the gut. I clasp her hand and hold her cold fingers against my chest. “Who is he? Tell me. I’ll make sure he never comes near you again.”

She tugs her hand free. “You need to leave. Don’t come back here.”

What did this fucker do to Mya to make her so afraid?

“I smelled him on you yesterday and the day before. He’s been coming around here harassing you, hasn’t he?” His scent wasn’t strong either time. It reminded me of the lingering smell a shifter carries after they’ve hugged someone. That she carried it both days means this guy has been around often. Touching my true mate. That I have a problem with.

Mya swallows hard. She flicks her gaze to the woods, then hurries to her apartment building. “It’s late. I need to go in.”

I want to follow her. It’d be a mistake. She’s too skittish right now, and she won’t accept my comfort. There is one thing I can do for her. “What’s his name?”

She shakes her head. The door closes, blocking her from view.

The rage I’d experienced moments ago flares. Primal instincts rise. My wolf gains ground. I feel him moving just under my skin. I ball my hands, hiding the tips of my claws, but I don’t shove my wolf back. Our target is in the woods. We both want his blood for hurting our true mate. There’s nothing stopping us now.

Without another wasted breath, I jog far enough into the woods where I won’t be seen by humans and strip. I leave my scattered clothes on the ground and embrace my wolf’s form. The change flows over me. No pain or grotesque distortion accompanies my transformation. It’s simply a flip of images, mine abating and my wolf’s rising.

On four legs, I look at the world through my wolf’s eyes just as he looks through my human eyes when I allow him close. I’m still in charge of our shared body. I never give my wolf free rein. Despite being bonded to me, he’s an animal, driven by primal instincts that don’t always have a place in this world. He understands that, even if he doesn’t always appreciate being restrained.

In this instance, we have a common goal. This shifter who has some hold over Mya, who thinks he can push her around, who makes her fearful. He needs to learn his place. I won’t stand for him ever coming around Mya again.

Ears perked to catch any sounds, I sniff the breeze. Thousands of scents reach me. My wolf processes them, saving my human mind from being overwhelmed. He focuses on one—the offending stench of the male who shoved Mya.

Excitement thrums through me. My prey was here. He, too, is in his wolf’s form, running toward the Tanner pack’s lands. No, not Tanner. It’s the Jager pack now. My dead breeding partner’s dad was ousted. I’m glad. He’s a coldhearted prick who cared as little for his pack members as he did for his kids.

I push forward, running full-out. I want to catch this shifter before he reaches his pack’s lands, no matter what they’re called now. Without an invitation to visit, I would need permission from the current alpha. Since Ethan Jager has yet to return my call, I don’t have the clearance to step foot there.

As the miles fall behind me, it becomes apparent that I’ll have to enter the Jager pack lands without the rightful approval. My prey has fled home. I don’t hesitate at the edge of the Jager’s territory. The lack of permission won’t stop me from protecting Mya. I simply have to make sure I don’t get caught.

---

Daybreak brightens the sky by the time I reach my prey’s home, a run-down but somewhat neat cabin on the other side of the Jager territory, miles from Mya’s place. A rusted truck and a small, bright yellow car sit in the driveway. My prey is home, and he has company.

In a crouch, I approach the cabin. A woman’s low moan reaches me. Another female’s pleasured moan follows. Both are muffled. I move slowly, but the rhythmic thumping of something hitting the wall and the occasional metal squeak hints at what’s happening inside the cabin.

With my front paws on the windowsill, I peer into the bedroom. The guy who shoved Mya is balls-deep inside a female. A second female who’s kissing my prey is sitting on the face of the woman who’s getting fucked.

Confusion settles over me. If this shifter already has a couple of lovers, why is he bothering Mya? No answer comes to me. At least not any I want to consider.

Leaving the ménage to finish their fun, I trot behind the truck and memorize the license plate. There’s more than one way to take down prey. Luckily, I have the means to do so, thanks to Shifter Affairs. Once I know every detail about this shifter’s life, I’ll find his weakness and exploit it.

Nobody is allowed to hurt my true mate. Ever.