Page 3 of Jace’s Mate (East Coast Territory #1)

His breath had reeked of scotch. His voice had been low and deadly: “Never ask me about what I do.”

She hadn’t asked again.

But she’d never forgotten.

And now, standing there in front of him, flushed from her battle with whatever was inside of her, she was careful not to gloat.

Still, she knew: today, he had no excuse to punish her.

She was in control.

“Good girl,” Uncle Wilton said, his voice coated in mock praise. The sneer on his pudgy face made her stomach lurch. “Control it, or you’ll be forced to leave us.”

Leave us.

The words echoed in her skull, cold and final.

He walked to the door, then paused and looked back at her with a sickening little smirk.

“Oh, and don’t forget the braised beef for dinner. Make those potatoes I like. The soft ones.”

He laughed at his own cruelty and walked out, shutting the door behind him.

Silence bloomed.

Heavy. Awkward. Humiliating.

Anikka turned her head slowly toward Joshua and Matt. They hadn’t moved. Both men were staring at her, and something about the look in their eyes made her breath hitch.

It wasn’t confusion.

It was fear.

They were afraid of her .

Anikka blinked, uncertain how to respond to the fear in their eyes.

A low, primal urge surged inside her—one that demanded she growl, assert dominance, challenge.

But no.

Ladies didn’t growl.

She clenched her jaw instead, swallowing the sound before it escaped.

Uncle Wilton had drilled his expectations into her head with brutal consistency.

She was to wear flowered dresses, speak softly, and never raise her voice.

She was to behave like a proper young woman—decorative, obedient, and small.

So instead of snarling, Anikka narrowed her eyes in a piercing glare. Sharp. Silent. Unyielding.

And strangely... effective.

The two bodyguards, men nearly twice her size, faltered under her stare. They shifted awkwardly. One rubbed the back of his neck. The other glanced at the door like it might offer escape.

Eventually, both ducked their heads and hurried after Wilton, avoiding eye contact as if afraid she’d follow.

“That’s right,” she muttered under her breath. “Go guard that pathetic bastard.”

A throat cleared behind her. She turned.

Eldin. Her ever-present shadow. The guard Wilton had assigned to protect her.

“Sorry,” Anikka mumbled, turning back to the fridge. She didn’t need a babysitter. Especially one who silently reported everything she did.

The refrigerator hummed softly as she opened it and leaned inside. As expected, the shelves were mostly bare. Whatever ingredients she currently had wouldn’t stretch far enough to feed everyone. There were six men in the house. Seven, counting her.

And she’d need nearly ten pounds of beef just to keep them from complaining.

“Don’t believe the internet,” she whispered to herself, grabbing a notepad.

“I’m sorry?” Eldin prompted from behind her. He’d started to retreat but stopped at her words.

Anikka didn’t look up. “I used to buy groceries based on portion sizes from recipe websites. You know—the recommended amount of meat per person.” She scrawled 10 lbs beef onto the list. “Turns out you guys eat like wolves.”

She added a sack of potatoes, pausing briefly to consider salad.

No.

They didn’t eat vegetables. Occasionally fruit, sure. But salad? Never.

She hesitated.

Why did I just think of them as wolves?

The word pack echoed in her mind again, uninvited.

She frowned. It kept slipping into her thoughts—quiet but persistent.

Pack. Not group. Not household. Pack.

She shook the thought off like an annoying buzz and focused on the list.

“I need to go grocery shopping,” she announced.

Eldin stiffened. “Your uncle said you’re not to leave the house.”

Anikka shrugged, setting the list down with forced nonchalance. “Fine. I wasn’t in the mood to cook tonight anyway.” She leaned against the counter, arms crossed over her midsection.

She didn’t notice the effect her posture had—how it lifted and framed her breasts beneath the modest floral dress.

Anikka had always assumed those old-fashioned outfits camouflaged her figure. They were Wilton’s idea of proper female attire.

But she hated them.

The frills. The buttons. The itchy necklines.

She dreamed of jeans. The soft, lived-in kind she saw in online catalogs. Or leggings, paired with a tee-shirt or—better yet—a fleece hoodie like the ones sold on camping gear sites.

And boots.

Yes. Black boots. Sturdy. Practical. With thick soles and steel toes.

Maybe they’d have a feminine flair. Maybe not.

Would she look dangerous in boots like that?

Shaking her head, Anikka fingered the seam of her insipid, flowered dress, her glare sharpening on Eldin.

She forced the daydream of black boots and fleece-lined jackets out of her mind and turned her attention back to dinner prep.

Control the controllable, she reminded herself.

Eldin would give in. He always did.

He was tough on the outside, but weak under pressure. Especially when she turned silent and let her gaze harden into something cold and sharp.

She watched the emotions play across his face—anger, frustration, stubborn resistance. Then she saw it. The exact moment he cracked.

It was always in the eyes.

“Fine!” Eldin snapped, clearly more afraid of Wilton returning to a cold kitchen than of disobeying orders. “Just give me the list. I’ll go get the ingredients.”

Anikka rolled her eyes. “Seriously? I’ve always gone shopping alone at the other houses,” she said, planting her hands on her hips. “Why am I suddenly not allowed to leave? What’s so different about here ?”

Eldin glanced at the door her uncle had disappeared through, as if it might offer an answer. It didn’t.

Finally, he turned back to her, looking truly conflicted for once. “I don’t know. He just told me to keep you inside while we’re in Baltimore. Didn’t say why.”

Every fiber of Anikka’s being rebelled at the idea of being trapped in this claustrophobic, shabby rental.

The townhouse was miserable—cheaply furnished, dimly lit, and constantly smelling faintly of cat. No urine, thankfully, but the scent was there. Embedded in the fabric of the place. The ghosts of fur and dander never quite left.

Mice, though? That was a different story.

She could smell them. Track them, even. There was a small nest tucked in the south corner of what passed for a living room—beneath the ripped baseboard and behind a crooked floor lamp.

The kitchen was barely wide enough to turn around in. The oversized fridge stuck out like an afterthought, nearly brushing the edge of the scuffed round table pressed against the far wall.

A narrow window above the sink gave her a view of the back “yard”—a patch of overgrown weeds roughly the size of a beach towel.

Wilton never stayed in cities. He preferred remote houses with no neighbors and lots of woods.

Why Baltimore?

And why did she feel so deeply unsettled here?

Anikka inhaled slowly, the air inside stale and dry. She needed sun. Fresh air. The feeling of wind tugging through her hair. She ached for the outside world like a starving animal aching for food.

Late spring had arrived, bringing with it the promise of warmth and change.

And freedom.

A bold thought slipped into her mind—unbidden, shocking in its clarity.

Clothes off. Skin to sun. Free.

Anikka jolted at the primal weight of it. She swallowed hard, blinking herself back to the present.

Eldin was still watching her.

With a huff, she shifted her weight. “Here’s the thing, Eldin. My uncle found and adopted me. He’s my uncle, not my jailer.”

She lifted her chin, fixing him with a glare that dared him to challenge her.

“I’m going to the store. I’m going to get the ingredients for tonight’s dinner. Because we both know if dinner isn’t hot and ready when Wilton walks through that door, the punishment won’t be pretty.” Her voice lowered. “And let’s not pretend you’d get the order right. You never do.”

Without waiting for a response, Anikka snatched the list and the credit card Wilton kept in a drawer for grocery runs.

“If you want to come with me, fine. If not, have a seat and stay out of my way.”

She tugged open the warped wooden door and stepped outside.

Sunlight spilled over her skin like silk.

She tilted her face to the sky and closed her eyes.

The warmth. The light. Even the lingering chill from last night’s air—all of it felt right. Like something ancient inside her had been curled up in a dark box and had finally stretched for the first time in days.

As soon as a soft breeze teased the hem of her ugly skirt, that tingling sensation started all over again. But this time, it was easier to tamp down.

Still, she felt like… running.

Yes—running. Fast and free.

She could picture herself in an open field, her long legs slicing through tall grass, her breath coming hard and fast as she sprinted toward the tree line. She imagined weaving in and out of thick forest, the wind rushing past her skin, the earth beneath her feet alive with energy.

Bare feet.

The image startled her. She could almost feel the cool earth beneath them, the pulse of life humming up through her soles.

And then—dark hair. Long. Wild. Blowing behind her like a shadow.

Only… the image in her mind was different. It wasn’t her hair. Not in the way she wore it now.

Shaking off the strange vision, Anikka forced herself back to the present and quickened her steps down the filthy sidewalk toward the grocery store she’d seen on their drive into the city.

Eldin matched her pace, shortening his stride to walk beside her. He was quiet—but alert. His eyes kept darting from shadowed alleys to rooftop corners, like he expected something to pounce. Like he could sense the strange… something in the air.

He wasn’t just grumpy today. He was nervous.

And on high alert.

That was… weird.

Was he expecting trouble?

The city smelled different than the country—less clean, but more interesting .