Wyatt
“I…I…”
She’s looking at me like I mind, like I’m bothered that she just claimed me as her life mate. Joyce looks so terrified that even though it’s completely inappropriate, I laugh. I throw my head back, and the joy that I’m feeling completely overtakes me.
And then I kiss her deeply.
“I’m not,” I tell her. “This is so right, Joyce. This is the way it’s supposed to be.”
“I know,” she whispers. “But we should have talked about it.”
“What is there to say, darling?”
“Well, you know…maybe you aren’t ready for a mate. Maybe you don’t believe in them.”
“I believe in you, Joyce. I believe in the way I feel around you. I believe in the sun and the moon and the stars and I believe you shine brighter than any of them, sweetheart.”
“Really?” She asks, and she’s so close to tears I can’t handle it.
“Really, baby. Really.” I kiss her then, and she kisses me back eagerly, sweetly, perfectly. “But do you think you could close the wound for me, pumpkin?” I smile as she blushes. Obviously, neither of us has been mated before, but when she swipes her tongue over the bite mark on my neck, I can feel it closing, and I know I have an incredibly fantastic scar there now that marks me as hers.
“You didn’t mark me back,” she whispers.
“Oh, I will, baby.” I kiss her again. “The next time I’m deep inside of you, sweetheart, I’m going to mark you for the whole world to see. You’re mine, Joyce. Mine for always.”
I’ve never been a big fan of the idea of mates, but with Joyce, it just makes sense. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her and now I know she hasn’t been able to stop thinking of me, either.
Everyone I know who has a life mate has said the same thing: when you know, you know. When you find the one person who makes your heart soar, who makes you feel complete, then you latch onto that and you go for it.
You mate them.
Then you’re with them forever, and everything is as it should be. Joyce looks at me, and suddenly, I’m not just a man. I’m not just some guy. Suddenly, I’m hers, and that’s how I feel like it should be.
I take a step back and look at her. She’s so beautiful, so perfect. So sweet. I pull my pants back up, sadly, regretfully, and I look at the way she’s still so pretty and spread-out on the desk. Joyce smiles at me like she’s never seen anyone so perfect or handsome, and suddenly, I feel like I can soar.
And then the door bursts open, and four men come barreling in.
“You guys had sex?” Oliver asks. His voice is high-pitched, almost a shriek.
“What the hell were you thinking, Joyce? This guy?”
“Yeah, seriously. What is going on?”
“At least you waited until we were finished to come barging in here,” Joyce says calmly. She finishes adjusting her skirt and fixing her top, but the men barely seem to notice her disheveled appearance. They’re too busy looking me up and down, vying for top dog.
Well, too bad.
They’re too late.
She’s marked me, and I am hers.
“Joyce and I are mates,” I say calmly.
Ronan, Landon, Oliver, and Matthew all look shocked to their cores.
“What?” Oliver says. He looks from me to Joyce and back again. “What?” He repeats, and I wonder if he’s going a little crazy, or if the dude is just in shock.
“I’m guessing she doesn’t bring many men to work,” I say dryly.
“Joyce?” Oliver turns to her, and he looks confused.
“It’s okay, Ollie,” she says gently. “He’s a good man.”
“You’re rushing into this,” Landon points out, but before I can say anything, Joyce starts laughing.
Loudly.
“You really should take some time to think about this,” Ronan agrees, and again, Joyce laughs in his face.
“Real rich coming from the three of you,” she says. “Do you really want to get into how long any of you waited to have sex with your mates?”
Judging by their silence, I’m going to take a wild guess and say it wasn’t a very long wait for any of the men.
“We don’t know anything about this guy,” Ronan tries again, and this time, I’m the one who speaks up.
“Sergeant Wyatt Dixon, Shifter Squad,” I tell them. “I’m a police officer working on the Charlene Hill case, and unfortunately, we’re working against the clock.”
Oliver looks from me to Joyce and back again. “I think the clock ran out a long time ago, bud,” he says softly, as if he’s trying to gently let me know that Charlene may not be alive.
The truth is that he’s right.
She may not be.
She could have been killed immediately after her abduction, which would be devastating. Part of being a good cop means holding out hope, but sometimes, even the best cops still have to work knowing they could be too late. Whether she’s gone or not, I have to catch Logan Smith before he can hurt another person, especially if he’s going to go after Joyce the way she suspects.
I’m not sure if Logan Smith really does want my mate, but I know I’m not letting him get anywhere near her. He hasn’t made a move yet, so she might be wrong. He might not be after her. He might not be trying to get her at all, but there’s a chance he could be waiting for the perfect moment, and I don’t plan on letting him get it.
“That’s not the clock I’m talking about,” I tell him. “Remember when I said that Joyce and I had a fling a few weeks ago”
Oliver rolls his eyes.
He certainly remembers.
Landon, Ronan, and Matthew all nod politely. Their expressions are neutral, and although I don’t even really know Matthew, I’m proud of the kid. He’s learning. Good.
If he wants to succeed in the world of law, he’s going to have to be able to control his emotions and thoughts, especially if he’s around other shifters. The beautiful thing about shifters is that some of us have senses so strong we can tell what emotions someone is feeling.
This can also be our downfall, especially if we don’t learn to control these things.
“I’ll assume you remember,” I say to Oliver, and then I turn to the rest of the group. “I was approached by a reporter, a Marie Martin.”
Everyone groans, and I can tell that Marie is definitely popular, especially in this group.
“She wanted to let me know she had discovered the truth about my relationship with Joyce.”
“But until about five minutes ago, you didn’t have a relationship!” Oliver says.
“Hey now, that was way more than five minutes,” Joyce protests on my behalf, and I smile at her.
“Well, we’re definitely mated now, boys, so I’m here to stay, but you’re right. Until Marie approached me, I didn’t realize Joyce was the woman I’d been intimate with after the investigation began.”
“You didn’t realize it?” Ronan looks confused. “How is that possible?”
Joyce meekly raises her hand. “That would be my fault,” she says. “Thanks to the magic of the Internet, I saw a picture of the main investigator on the case and I realized we’d been together. I didn’t want to mess up the investigation, so I stayed away from Wyatt and I made up excuses to keep from seeing him.”
“She met with my associates,” I explain. “But the two of us have not interacted face-to-face since that night.”
“What does any of that have to do with Marie Martin?” Matthew asks. “Why does she care?”
“She’s going to run a piece in the newspaper about our relationship tomorrow,” Joyce says. “Of course, we’re mated now, which complicates things further, but the short answer is that we need to figure out what Logan Smith has done, and we only have today.”
“Because as soon as the story runs, you’re off the case,” Ronan says, realizing what’s going on.
“And there’s no way it’s going to be a priority to the next officer,” Oliver says with a sigh. “It’s been a month and you guys aren’t any closer.”
“Fuck,” Landon runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head. “This is messy.”
“Where are you in your investigation?” Matthew asks Joyce, and now it’s my turn to look at her.
“Investigation?”
“I may have…uh…been doing some research on the case,” she says slowly.
“Joyce, we don’t have time for pleasantries or modesty,” Oliver says. “Stop acting like you haven’t been getting into trouble and just give him everything you’ve got.”
“Oh, fine,” she says, rolling her eyes. She moves and picks up a stack of papers we knocked off the desk and hands them to me.
“How did you get these?” I ask her. She has copies of both official and unofficial police reports and notes on the case. She’s got evidence lists, copies of interviews, and tons and tons of photographic evidence.
“I won’t name my sources,” she says, shaking her head. “But I will tell you that Logan is definitely behind this.”
“The problem is that we don’t have motive and we don’t have him grabbing her. Yeah, he was with her, but that’s it.”
“He was the last one to see her,” Oliver points out. “And then they both seem to have left the school.”
“The parking lot doesn’t have cameras,” Joyce says. “And Charlene didn’t have a car. We know that her bike is gone, but it could have been stashed anywhere.”
“What about the school?” Matthew asks. “Cameras?”
“We have cameras in the halls near the professor’s offices and in the commons,” I tell him. “And we’ve all poured over that footage about a million and nine times.” I shake my head. “All we know is that they were together at one point in the evening, and the next day, her roommate reported her missing.”
Joyce nods as I’m speaking, and I know she has all of this information memorized.
Poor Joyce.
I hate knowing this has affected her so deeply. Of course it would. Logan is her ex-boyfriend, after all. I don’t care that she dated him. Not at all. We all have our pasts. We all have our secrets. What I care about is the fact that Joyce is scared, and she’s tired, and she’s been searching for this guy on her own, and I had no idea how much she was struggling.
I should have known it was her.
I should have known she was the woman from the Red Oak.
I wish I had figured it out earlier without intervention from Miss Martin, but I’m just happy and satisfied that I know now. I’m content that now, after all this time, Joyce and I are finally mated and together.
Did it happen completely unexpectedly?
Yes.
Do I regret it?
Not at all.
Joyce and I had an instant connection that can’t be explained except that us coming together is destiny. I should have claimed her as my own that first night. I should have promised her we’d be together for always. I should have swept her off her feet instead of walking away, but I did.
And now, the universe has decided to give me a second chance.
This time?
This time, I won’t screw it up.