Page 19 of Not My Mate

Oh, Charlie. How could I ever leave you?

It didn't matter what he said or did at this point. My mate needed me. I needed to be here for him, even if that meant never being the same form at the same time with him ever again.

I knew one thing: if I walked away and left him like my parents thought I should, something terrible would happen. Something would end. I didn't think it was me — I thought it was him.

He thought he didn't want me, but what would he do if I left? I didn't think he'd last long. Charlie didn't really have anybody except me and Singh. He kept to himself so no one could hurt him — and it still hadn't worked, because there was me, managing it all the time, and there was Singh, loving someone else instead of Charlie.

At least now he was sleeping. He needed his rest. I would stay with him out here all night if he needed it. I would keep him warm and safe as best I could.

He was still my Charlie, even if he never wanted to be my mate. I was a fool for loving him, for pushing at him, and for staying away. For everything I'd done, and everything I hadn't done. He might never forgive me, never love me, and surely Dad and Mom were right: I should walk away.

But I was staying. He was my Charlie, and I loved him.

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He slept well, only a little restlessly, and in the morning I nuzzled him awake and licked his chin. He pushed me away from him, rolling over, grumbling something half-coherent. Then he pushed his fingers into my fur again, grabbing hold of my ruff as if to anchor himself. I lay down and licked his wrist.

I was getting worried, though. Even more worried, I mean. He hadn't eaten anything since noon yesterday, and he was acting sluggish. He didn't have blood sugar issues, but he did have a shifter's need for fuel. He'd been through a lot of stress, and he needed toeat.

I nudged at him and licked at his face until he grumbled and growled. I tugged on his clothes and closed my jaws around his wrist, biting him gently, not actually breaking his skin.

"All right, all right." He finally sat up and glared down at me. His hair was a mess, like a halo. He needed a shower. He looked grouchy and half-asleep. He was beautiful, and I loved him.

I gave him a very stern look.You need to eat something!

He scowled at me and finally looked around. "We're in a field," he announced.

Whose fault is that, genius?I bit his knee in frustration, growling.Get up! Eat!

"All right, I'm going! You piece of shit. Don't bite me."

You bite me whenever you want. I started for him again, but he got up quickly, dusting off his jeans and giving me a hunted look, his face tight like he had a headache. He probably did, after not eating or drinking for so long.

"I'll go when I want," he announced.

I started for him again, and he got moving fast. I followed him closely, ominously, all the way back, glaring at him when he considered not going to the house. Yes, he was a mess. But he had to eat, dammit!

He finally, finally went inside when Mom opened the door for him and said hello in her friendliest voice. Her disapproval didn't come through at all; anyone would have thought she loved him and was happy I wanted him as my mate.

"Come, have some breakfast. You boys smell hungry."

Charlie scowled down at his feet, looking miserable, but he went in and ate and drank what she gave him. I ate from a plate on the floor, and Mom gave me a bowl of coffee and cream to drink along with my pancakes and bacon. My mom was a really good cook; everything tasted amazing. Charlie forced himself to eat a reasonable portion and then went to take a shower and get ready to leave.

Dad had gone to rent a vehicle to take us back.

Us. Maybe just Charlie. He might not want to be in the same vehicle with me, and I was trying to prepare myself for that. We would both have to be in human form to fly back home, and he might not want to be that close to me.

I could always take another flight. It would hurt, and I wouldn't be there to keep him safe, but I could do it if I had to.

Mom looked down at me. "I hope you know what you're doing, Russell. Go on, now. Get shifted and put on some clothes."

I listened to the sound of the shower as I changed, drumming against Charlie's skin. The thought of him naked tormented me. Beautiful flesh I would never touch, but someone else had, to hurt him.

I'd kill them if I could. Rip their throat out and enjoy every moment of it. I wasn't usually so fierce, but I dwelled on that satisfying thought for a moment. Everybody who hurt Charlie should suffer.

Including me.

Charlie was fully dressed when he came out of the bathroom. He looked kind of blank-faced, like he was thinking about nothing, just going through the motions.