Page 4 of Jace’s Mate (East Coast Territory #1)

She sniffed again, catching the briny scent of river water mingled with exhaust, warm cement, body odor, and a spicy cloud of cologne from someone who’d passed through earlier. Even the trash didn’t bother her.

Beneath the sour edge of garbage, she caught something unexpected. Pasta.

She smiled. Someone had made spaghetti last night.

Maybe she’d make pasta tomorrow. That would be a nice change.

“We need to walk faster,” Eldin muttered behind her. He was now a step behind—as if guarding her back.

Anikka smirked over her shoulder. “Relax. I went for a walk before my uncle woke up this morning, and the world didn’t explode.”

She took in the neighborhood around her, appreciating the small signs of life that marked each porch and yard.

One townhome had a folded stroller on the porch. Another had a worn recliner that still held the scent of tobacco—cigars, she thought, with a small, satisfied nod.

Several other houses had bicycles scattered out front in a colorful jumble. College students maybe? Were they near a college campus?

Despite Eldin’s growls of frustration and nervous glances, Anikka kept walking at her own pace.

Wilton had given her a credit card for groceries—something he did with no hesitation. The man didn’t trust anyone, but he loved to eat.

And, truth be told, Anikka loved to cook.

His guards appreciated her meals, even if her uncle barely acknowledged the effort beyond barking orders.

As she passed another home with a sandbox and tiny shoes scattered across the porch, Anikka found herself wondering what it would feel like to belong to a real family.

Not a rotating cast of bodyguards. Not a smug, controlling uncle.

But something true.

Something warm and consistent and whole.

She sighed.

Wilton cycled through guards every few weeks. He fired them for petty offenses, yet always found replacements—odd, ragtag men with grim eyes and bruised knuckles.

But even they were better than nothing .

Anikka would take gruff strangers over total isolation any day.

Some people feared spiders. Others had nightmares about public speaking.

Anikka’s personal nightmare?

Being alone.

It wasn’t logical, but the fear sat deep in her bones, older than her memories. She didn’t fear shadows or burglars.

In fact, she sometimes wished for a break-in, just to see what would happen.

She suspected she’d enjoy the fight.

But solitude? That was unbearable. That was death.

As long as she was part of a group—even this one—she could endure anything.

For now.

Then, in a heartbeat, everything shifted.

A new scent drifted across her path.

Anikka stopped dead in her tracks. Eldin bumped into her with a quiet grunt.

“Sorry!” she gasped, half-spinning to face him, her eyes wide.

But she barely registered him.

That smell —

Tangy. Warm. Spicy.

And something else.

Male.

Deliciously male.

Her breath caught. She inhaled again, slow and deep.

No, it wasn’t Eldin. She knew his scent. This was… different.

This was someone else.

Her pupils dilated. Her chest tightened. Her skin prickled with awareness.

Eldin definitely wasn’t sexy. Anikka almost laughed at the idea.

Her so-called bodyguard stood about her height, with unremarkable features: light brown hair, hazel eyes, narrow shoulders, and the soft beginnings of a paunch. He wasn’t unattractive. He was just… ordinary.

Not repulsive. Not exciting. Just meh .

And judging by the way his eyes kept darting nervously to alleyways and parked cars, she doubted he’d be much good in a fight either. Too jittery. Too hesitant.

As she resumed walking, her eyes scanned the quiet buildings they passed.

Do I look as normal as he does?

“I don’t feel normal,” she whispered to no one in particular.

They passed several homeless people huddled in doorways, cradling steaming coffee or cups of soup in paper containers. Their presence tugged at her curiosity. Did they feel normal? Was anyone actually normal?

With a sigh, she walked through the sliding doors of the grocery store. The air inside was cool and clean, filled with the scent of citrus and floor wax.

“Good morning,” she greeted a teenage employee who was trying—and failing—to stack apples into a pyramid.

As he fumbled a few, she instinctively caught them.

“Good... uh…” The boy blushed, glancing up at her nervously.

“I’m sorry,” she said, helping him steady the fruit. “I must have bumped you.”

“It’s fine. Not your fault.” His voice cracked, and she offered him a gentle smile before moving on.

She needed potatoes. And butter. Maybe some bacon.

And then—rosemary.

She picked up the fragrant bundle of herbs, bringing it to her nose and inhaling deeply.

Was there any scent more amazing than rosemary?

“Nope!” she said out loud, grinning when Eldin shot her a confused look.

She tossed the herbs into her cart, then moved efficiently through the store. She finished her shopping quickly and headed back home, her arms full of fragrant ingredients and her mind full of recipe options.

She was already debating whether to add black pepper to the roast when it hit her—

That scent.

Again.

Just a block from the rental house, Anikka stopped dead in her tracks.

Her heart stuttered. Her arms froze around the grocery bags.

The scent floated to her on a breeze—subtle at first, then overwhelmingly rich.

It was unlike anything she’d ever smelled before.

Masculine. Wild. Spiced heat wrapped in something darker.

Alluring.

Her body jolted in response.

Tingling awareness flooded her skin, like she’d touched a live wire.

Her breasts tightened. Her arms felt hypersensitive. Her core pulsed with a low, coiling heat that sent a shiver down her spine.

Could this all be triggered by scent ?

That’s insane.

And yet—here it was.

Real.

Powerful.

Tempting.

She lifted her head and sniffed again, more carefully this time.

Yes. It was there. Lingering. Beckoning.

Part of her wanted to chase it down—follow it to the source and bury her face against whoever or whatever had created it.

She swallowed hard, trying to ignore the strange pressure building in her chest.

But there was another layer to the scent now. Beneath the seductive lure was danger.

Real danger.

Her body responded even more strongly to that realization.

Her legs tensed. Her pulse pounded. Her body coiled, bracing.

For a fight?

The thought made no sense.

And yet, her instincts screamed: Be ready.

She forced herself to turn. Forced her feet to move.

Walk. Just walk.

But her steps were slower now. Stiff. Her body was buzzing with so much sensation that even carrying the heavy bags felt surreal.

Like she was moving through water.

The scent clung to her senses, teasing her. Drawing her.

And as she trudged up the sidewalk toward the house, one thought kept circling her mind—wild, feral, and shockingly vivid:

Find the source. Lick it.

The words startled her.

Lick a scent?

What was wrong with her?

“Are you okay?” Eldin asked, then suddenly froze, sniffing the air.

His expression shifted abruptly.

Anikka watched, startled, as confusion morphed into something much darker—wide-eyed fear. He'd smelled it too. That same scent. That same danger.

Without a word, he grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the rental house.

“We need to get inside the house,” he hissed.

Anikka turned, flipping her hair over her shoulder in irritation. “I think—”

But then it hit her again.

Another breeze. Another wave of that scent.

Her knees buckled.

A clawing ache bloomed low in her belly—a burning hunger that had nothing to do with food. Her fingers tightened around the grocery bags, though a deeper part of her wanted to drop everything and run .

Run toward the scent.

“You’re sick!” Eldin gasped. His grip tightened on her arm. “We need to get you inside. Now! ”

He wrenched the heavy bags from her hands and started running, dragging her along like a ragdoll up the last few steps.

“Move faster!” he snapped, voice laced with panic. “We have to get back before your uncle returns!”

His urgency wasn’t lost on her. This wasn’t typical Eldin behavior. He was scared .

Through a flurry of shoves and hasty tugs, Eldin managed to get her through the front door of the house.

The moment it slammed shut behind them—and that scent no longer teased her senses—Anikka blinked in confusion.

She was panting. Her skin tingled. Her entire body felt flushed and raw, as if something had touched her from the inside out.

“Did you smell that?” she whispered, her voice unsteady. “That thing —that scent —was I imagining it?”

She felt wrung out. Overstimulated. What the hell was happening to her?

Eldin dropped the bags with a thud and spun to face her, gripping her upper arms tightly.

“Use the control your uncle taught you!” he snapped, eyes wide and wild. “You’ve done it before! I’ve seen you do it—it’s weird, yeah, but do it now !”

And then he was gone.

Anikka blinked. The door was hard against her shoulder blades, locked.

She could unlock it. She could go back outside.

Back to the scent.

Back to the fire .

She could almost feel the invisible thread pulling her, calling her. Her cells still hummed from it.

She'd never felt so alive .

Or so hungry .

“Probably going crazy,” she muttered, bracing herself against the door.

She closed her eyes, forcing her focus inward. Control it.

But what was she controlling?

The urge to rip off her dress. To scream. To run.

Her hand clutched at the itchy lace collar, yanking it down as if it were choking her. Her fingers curled around the fabric of her skirt and she wanted to tear it to shreds.

The shoes were already gone, kicked across the room in frustration.

She wanted bare feet . She wanted the earth . And God help her, she wanted to hunt down that scent and lick it .

That thought shook her. Again. What the hell did it mean to want to lick a scent?

She gasped.

“What’s wrong with me?”

Eldin returned to the kitchen, eyes wide as he took in her disheveled state. His voice dropped an octave. “ Control it. ”

There was something off about him now—his voice lower, rougher. Or was that just more of whatever was freaking her out?

He stepped closer, face tight with frustration. “Get control,” he snapped again, glancing anxiously over his shoulder, clearly hoping no one else saw her like this.

Anikka’s fists clenched.

She forced air into her lungs, great gulps of it, and wrestled herself back into stillness.

It took time. Long, brutal moments of grinding down the chaos in her mind and soul. But eventually, the tingling began to fade.

She opened her eyes. Her hands were still tangled in the neckline of her dress. Her heart still pounded.

“I’m fine,” she hissed, even though she wasn’t.

Eldin didn’t move. He stood close, still watching her like she was dangerous. Like she might explode.

His control, his tone—it all reminded her too much of her uncle.

But Wilton at least had a shred of authority, deserved or not. Eldin? Eldin was just a nervous guard with a bad mustache and khakis that bunched awkwardly at the knees.

Everything about him annoyed her.

“Back off!” she growled.

When he didn’t move, she shoved him—hard.

He stumbled back.

“I said I’m fine.”

“If you say so,” Eldin muttered, his eyes still wary. “Doesn’t seem like it.”

He was still staring at her like she was something he might have to kill.

Anikka licked her lips, pulse still racing. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to hit him, scream, or shift into something wild and terrifying and run straight through the window.

Shift?

Where had that thought come from?

She scowled at him, kicking off what was left of her composure.

The ticking clock above the oven caught her attention. Dinner.

She was cutting it close.

“I’m fine,” she said again, more evenly this time.

She pushed herself away from the door and picked up the grocery bags.

The tiles beneath her bare feet were cold, grounding.

She gripped the edge of the counter and held on, breathing through the strange wave that washed over her again.

Mate. Run. Find.

No.

Not now.

Later.

Only when the sensations were fully under control did she begin to prepare the roast.