Page 5 of Jace's Mate

Anikka flinched instinctively, but her chin remained high.

Across the room, Wilton’s subordinates bowed their heads as if on cue.They always did.As though some ancient compulsion rolled off the man in waves.

But not Anikka.

Not anymore.

“My apologies, Uncle,” she said, her voice steady—too steady.Too clear.Sheknewit would provoke him further, and part of her relished his anger.

Wilton’s eyes narrowed.His fists clenched.She saw the pulse hammering at his temple.

“I took you in when you were nothing!”he roared.“I could toss you onto the street tomorrow and you’d starve like the little stray you are!”

Internally, Anikka’s stomach churned—not at Wilton’s rage, but at the threat he dangled before her: being cast out.

Despite her disgust for the man, she couldn’t shake the lingering terror of being truly alone again.That deep-rooted fear, buried since childhood, resurfaced like an old bruise aching in bad weather.She remembered wandering through the streets of a sleepy town, nameless and unseen, always certain that something—someone—was missing.

When Uncle Wilton had found her, she hadn’t felt safe exactly, but shehadfelt… anchored.

No, that wasn’t quite right.

She’d felt seen.Understood.

Somehow, he’d recognized the strange sensations that sometimes bubbled beneath her skin—those urges she couldn’t explain.He hadn’t asked questions.He’d simply sniffed her like an animal and smiled.

That smile had terrified her.

But then he’d patted her head and murmured in a tone too calm to be comforting,“Those sensations prick all of us as we get older, my dear.Just resist them, and you’ll be fine.If you give in, then… well, bad things could happen to you.”

Anikka had believed him.As a child, she’d clung to his warning like a prayer.

Now, the sensations were back—stronger.Sharper.

Panic flared.It was happening again.

She clenched her fists, nails biting into her palms as the strange energy surged.Bending forward, she gritted her teeth and fought to contain the tingling that crawled beneath her skin.Her limbs trembled.Something inside herwanted out.

When she’d been younger, it had been easier to resist—like pushing down a restless dream.But now?It felt like her body wasn’t entirely hers.As if something ancient and primal lurked beneath her skin’s surface, pressing against her bones, desperate to break free.

She gasped and shoved her thick, dark hair off her shoulders.Her fingers gripped the back of a kitchen chair, and her nails dug into the cheap wood as if to ground herself.

Her vision flickered.Not to black—but to something else.

Not blind.Not exactly.

And then the prickling started.Like electricity tracing along her spine, as if her nerves were rewiring themselves.

Her dress—lightweight and floral—brushed against her legs, and the soft swish suddenly feltwrong.Agitating.The contact only amplified the strange, rising sensation in her body.

The monster was back.

Her muscles twitched.Her body twisted.The heat flooded her chest, her thighs, her stomach—like fire and fury and something wild that had no name.

And then—

“Fight it!”

Wilton’s voice cracked like a whip.Gravelly.Harsh.Afraid.