Mate

    Mate. The word had clanged through him the moment her scent of jasmine had reached his nostrils, cleaving right through the grief and anger that had been eating away at him. 

The witch’s daughter was his mate. And she didn’t know or suspect anything. It brought a lot of things into question. What was a wolf doing in a horde of witches? Did she really know nothing of it or was she as deceitful as the other witches?

    He had seen her bright eyes of turquoise blue. She had not known what she was, or who he was to her. He had seen her confusion and he had known the moment she dismissed it, choosing instead to speak to him.

    He couldn’t tell if it was a blessing or a curse, but he knew one thing for sure. He would never be with her. He would reject her the moment he got out of this cage. But he needed her now. She was the daughter of the Head Witch. 

If anyone could help him escape from this miserable place, it would be her. He had seen the wildeness in her gaze last night. She would not fall for his tricks so easily. She seemed bright enough and strong-willed. 

     Convincing himself that it was all for the greater good, he made a decision. He would use the mate bond to his advantage and coax her into setting him free, as well as his men. He would do whatever was necessary to get back to his pack. He would do whatever it took to give Lucien a fitting burial, even if it meant spinning lies and deceiving her.

    And she would believe him because he was her mate. She would never understand it, but she would succumb easily to his lies. Zachary didn’t care what that made him. A monster, one might call him. Good. For Lucien, for the men he had led to death, for the pack he had to get back to, he would be the monster.

        *****************

     “What’s it like outside the mountains? I have never left the enclave,” Zoey said, toying with her braids. For three nights, she had snuck out of her room to meet him. She had no idea why she couldn’t stay away from him. Perhaps, it was his eyes.

    He didn’t look at her like everyone else. He didn’t look at her like she was an outcast. He didn’t look at her like she didn’t belong. 

    When their eyes met, she felt like she finally understood the word ‘home’. He gazed at her as if he knew her like he could see through her exterior, down to rock bottom where she had shoved her most painful thoughts and experiences. He had listened through her deepest, darkest thoughts, and he had smiled, utterly amused.

     She marveled at his musical laughter that bounced off the walls whenever she spoke. He found her amusing. He liked her company, she could tell by his rare smiles and the way his eyes lit up when she beamed at him.

    “Perhaps, I will take you with me when I leave here,” he said and Zoey’s smile faltered at the sadness that flickered in his eyes. She wanted to help him reunite with his pack and family. She didn’t know much about him yet, but she really wanted to help. 

    Her lips pursed and she surged forward, holding the bars of his cell. “Perhaps, I could help you speak to mother. She will listen. But you must promise to apologize for what you have done and—“

    She paused when she noticed the hardening of his eyes and the clenching of his jaw. He would never apologize to her mother. He would never plead his case. She understood that. He had lost too much in that battle to let it go.

    But she knew Anastasia. The only reason why she had left the man in the cage was that she wanted him to understand the gravity of what he had done. Her mother would set him free only after he had apologized to the community of witches and swore an oath never to attack them again.

    She needed to get through to him to make him understand. She reached for his hand that was a few inches away from her and she jerked at the impact of their skins touching. It was like touching an electric eel. It zapped her, straight to her core and she backed away from him, eyes wide with confusion.

    “Did you feel that?” she whispered, eyes searching his.

    Rather than respond to her, he straightened, rising to his full length. Instinctively, she rose too, tipping her head back to truly look at him. He was several feet taller and more imposing. He stopped shy of the barricade and when his eyes dropped to her lips, her tongue darted out instinctively to moisten it.

    His eyes followed the movement, and she could swear it began to glow with iridescent light. “Dia,” he muttered softly, reaching through the bars to cup her cheek. His touch sent delicious tingles through her and she held her breath when he leaned closer. 

    She wished the useless barricades were gone. She wished to touch him and understand what the texts said about being loved by a man. She was untouched. He was the first man who had touched her this way, and the only one who made her breath catch. 

    Butterflies scattered in her belly, causing her stomach to squeeze tightly as his warm breath tickled her skin. Heavens, she could die happily like this. Being touched by him was bliss. She wanted more. Needed more. She wanted his lips in places she didn’t know existed.

     She ached and hungered for this man in a way that was beyond sanity.

     “Zachary ,” she whispered, rising on her toes to inch up to him.

      His head lowered until their noses were touching. Zoey wasn’t sure she was breathing anymore. Her whole world was at a standstill, waiting for the touch of his lips against hers. Even the air had paused to bear witness to it.

     Lower, his head dropped, avoiding the bars of the cell and her eyes shuttered as his lips drew nearer. She would have this. She could have this. She wasn’t betraying anyone by kissing him. She could—

    Zachary pulled back from her so suddenly, it took a few seconds to wrap her head around it. She swallowed painfully as he said, “I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry. You should leave. I will consider what you have proposed. Thank you.”

    He turned from her, dismissing her, and she stood there, aghast. When she had gathered enough sense of self, she stormed away from the dungeon without a single word.