Page 11 of Jace’s Mate (East Coast Territory #1)

A nikka turned to leave, telling herself she had to go back. Dinner wasn’t going to cook itself, and the stew she’d left on the stove was probably scorched beyond saving. She should walk away.

But her feet didn’t move.

She took one step, paused, then turned back to face him again. That man. The arrogant one with eyes like shadows and a voice that tugged at something buried deep inside her. He just stood there, watching her with unnerving patience.

“I’m not your mate,” she snapped. “And I’m not a shifter. Or a wolf. Or… whatever it is you’re calling me.”

“You think not?” he asked, low and calm, watching the war play out on her face. She was trying to walk away. Failing.

Just like him.

“You are a shifter, Anikka.”

She stepped back, threading her fingers into her hair and gripping hard at the roots. “I don’t understand why you keep saying that. It doesn’t make any sense.”

Again, she turned to go, but his hand reached out, brushing her arm—just enough to halt her.

“Are you telling me,” he said carefully, “that you’ve never felt your body begin to shift? You’ve never looked out a car window, seen the trees blurring by, and felt this... pull? Like the woods were calling you? Like you were meant to run?”

Her breath caught.

Because she had .

Countless times, she’d stared out at the forests flying past, aching to leap from the car, to tear into the woods and let go. To run until her lungs burned and she couldn’t feel anything but the wind against her skin.

“That doesn’t mean—!”

“Anikka,” he interrupted, his voice different now—deeper. Commanding.

Something inside her growled . A low, unfamiliar vibration rolled through her chest, through her bones. She flinched.

“Stop it,” she whispered, folding in on herself, arms wrapping tight around her ribs. “Stop whatever you’re doing.”

He stepped closer.

And she felt it again. That pull . As if something invisible had wrapped itself around her spine and was tugging her forward.

“What’s happening to me?” Her voice cracked, the question ragged with fear.

“It’s your inner wolf,” he said softly, his tone still heavy with authority. “You’ve been suppressing it so long, you don’t even know it’s there. But it’s part of you. You can’t run from it forever.”

He turned, gesturing toward the tall steel-and-glass building beside them. “Come inside,” he said. “We need to talk. In private.”

She didn’t move.

Her heart pounded in her throat. Her body wanted to obey. Her mind screamed to resist.

She clenched her jaw and looked past him—to the three men standing in the distance.

Betas , her mind supplied, though she had no idea how she knew that.

They weren’t moving, but they were watching. Listening. And now, somehow, she was listening too.

What the hell is going on? one of them asked.

The man hadn’t moved his lips.

Is she sane? one of them asked.

Again—no sound. No mouth movement. Just the words, somehow in her head.

She pressed her palms to her ears. “I don’t think so,” she muttered.

Jace’s eyes snapped to hers.

Had he heard that? Had she said it aloud?

Or had she thought it?

She didn’t know anymore.

Anikka looked up at him—at the stranger with the steady voice and impossible scent—and something inside her finally cracked. “Help me,” she whispered. This time, she was sure the words had passed her lips. “I don’t… I don’t understand.”

Jace held her gaze. “Come with me.”

Then he turned and walked into the building.

And despite everything in her screaming not to, her feet followed.

As soon as she realized what she was doing, Anikka froze, staring at Jace’s back. She wanted to throw something at him for using that voice . That calm, commanding tone. And yet... it also comforted her. Centered her.

Which was insane. Instinctively, Anikka wanted to go to him, to please him. To see that approval in his eyes.

Please him? She’d spent her entire life displeasing men—on purpose. Men were beasts who tried to crush her spirit, and her uncle was the worst of them all. She’d never had the strength to leave him.

So why was she walking into this building?

Why was she following this man—the one turning her world inside out?

The soft shuffle of footsteps behind her drew her attention. She glanced over her shoulder. The three men had followed, stopping the moment she looked at them. Were they guarding her?

Or… herding her?

The thought chilled her, but another flicker of instinct stirred—a quiet voice whispering something impossible: You could command them.

And they would obey.

Anikka pressed her hands to her chest, as if she could protect herself from whatever force was unraveling inside her. Still, she stepped forward. Slowly. Reluctantly.

“Anikka,” Jace called, not raising his voice—but the pull was there. Undeniable.

She rushed inside, following him toward the elevator.

The black granite and glass lobby was sleek and modern, but she barely noticed. Everyone had stopped what they were doing. Staring as they made their way across the lobby.

Were they gawking at her awful dress? Could they smell her sweat? Did she stink?

She looked toward the elevator. Jace stood inside, one arm outstretched to hold the door. His expression was calm—too calm—but she sensed something simmering beneath the surface. Not impatience. Something else. Something… unrecognizable.

The three men entered behind her. All faced forward, boxing her in. She was pressed toward the back, closer to Jace.

Too close.

She turned her head, craning her neck to look up at him. His jaw was clenched, his gaze fixed straight ahead. But she knew —he was hyperaware of her. Every breath, every shift of her weight. He tracked it all.

The elevator rose.

And then the smells hit her.

Not just Jace—although his scent wrapped around her like a heated blanket—but the others, too. It was overwhelming. One had eaten pastrami. Another… ? Roast beef. And the third... a salad?

“It was delicious,” the third murmured, his voice low and rough—more animal than man.

Like a wolf , she thought wildly, and jolted back.

The elevator doors slid open. The men stepped out—two smirking at the salad-eater, who simply rolled his eyes and stepped aside, waiting for Jace.

But Jace didn’t move.

Instead, he turned toward her, arm extended, gesturing for her to go first.

Anikka hesitated, then stepped forward with cautious, uncertain steps. The hallway beyond was long, dimly lit, and silent.

Except—it wasn’t.

Voices.

So many voices.

She’d always had good hearing, but this... this was unnatural. She clamped her hands over her ears. It dulled the noise slightly, but not enough. Still the voices trickled in—murmurs, snippets, thoughts that didn’t sound spoken aloud.

“This way,” Jace said gently, placing his hand at the small of her back.

Even that light touch sent heat rushing through her.

She let him guide her, her footsteps hushed by thick carpet. But she could hear everything. Fabric brushing against skin. Doors closing. Phones clicking back into place. Someone drinking. Swallowing .

She could hear someone swallowing .

She was losing her mind.

“No,” Jace murmured, opening a door. “You’re not.”

He led her inside and closed the door behind them.

She turned to look at the door—relieved to see the three men hadn’t followed. They were on the other side, and... blessed silence.

With a shaky sigh, Anikka lowered her hands from her ears.

“Would you like something to drink? Wine, maybe?” Jace asked, watching her too intently—like a scientist studying a dangerous specimen. “Or something stronger?”

She didn’t answer right away, watching as he moved to a cabinet and pulled out a bottle. Her nose twitched. She could smell the wine. Even with the cork still on.

“I don’t... something is happening to me,” she whispered, her lips numb. “I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

Jace paused. One look at her expression—anxiety, confusion, a touch of panic—and he put the wine back. This time, he pulled out a different bottle. Amber liquid swirled into two glasses, the sound of it sloshing impossibly loud to her ears.

“Here,” he said, offering her one.

She took it slowly, sniffing it despite already catching the scent from across the room. It smelled divine .

Jace gestured toward a nearby sitting area. “Let’s sit. You can tell me about yourself.”

The couches looked comfortable—deep cushions, soft velvet—but she hesitated.

She stared down at the scotch. Could she actually see the bubbles in the liquid?

“Your senses are sharpening,” Jace said, interrupting her frantic thoughts. “It happens when mates find each other. Especially when they’re Alphas.”

Her head snapped up. “I’m not your mate, Jace,” she said, more firmly this time.

She took a tentative sip of the scotch—and froze.

“Oh dear heaven,” she whispered. The layers of flavor... the warmth... the smooth glide over her tongue followed by a slow, lingering burn. It was exquisite.

“Are you sure?” he asked. His voice had gone low again—like velvet and smoke.

Anikka looked at him closely. The dark hair. That scruffy jawline she normally wouldn’t find attractive. But now... now her fingers itched to touch it.

“Do it,” Jace said quietly.

Her eyes flew to his.

“Do what?”

“You want to feel my beard. Do it.”

She nearly dropped the scotch. “How did you...?”

“I can read minds, Anikka. And apparently, you can too.”

Before she could protest, he reached out and took her free hand, guiding it to his cheek. The moment her fingers brushed against the coarse hair, she felt something click inside her.

“Now that our mating pheromones are active,” he continued, “our senses will heighten. It’s overwhelming at first. But we’ll learn to control it—together.”

Anikka’s gaze turned hazy as she traced along his jawline, mesmerized.

“Wait until you feel my fur,” he murmured, voice rough with meaning.

Her hand froze. “Fur?”