Page 26 of Snatching Jackie (Wintermoon Shorts #5)

JABARI

I jolt awake in the middle of the night, my bear’s panic flooding through me. His frantic energy crashes against my consciousness with a single, terrifying realization:

Jackie is gone. Our mate is gone.

“Alright, calm down,” I mutter, running a hand over my forehead as I try to quiet the roaring in my mind.

I climb out of bed, scanning the empty space beside me. Her scent lingers on the sheets, but it’s fading. She’s been gone for at least twenty minutes. No wonder I didn’t notice her leave; she always makes it easy for me to fall into a deep sleep.

I start tracking her scent, following it out of the bedroom and down the stairs. The trail leads to the porch. What the hell is she doing outside at this hour? The winter season is nearly upon us, and the night air is crisp and bitterly cold—welcoming to me but dangerous to my human mate.

My bear claws frantically at my insides, demanding to shift while I struggle to hold him back.

“Please calm down,” I plead silently with him. “I am searching for her.”

I swing the cabin door open and step outside. My sharp vision finally catches movement at the edge of the tree line—Jackie, running into the forest.

I don’t waste time trying to figure out her reasoning or calling after her.

I leap off the porch, my bare feet barely touching the ice-cold ground before I take off in a sprint, running as fast as I can to catch up with her.

I’m wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants, but none of that matters right now.

All that matters is Jackie. I need to get to her, to figure out what’s wrong.

When I reach the clearing, I stop. She hasn’t gotten far.

I can hear her racing heartbeat from here.

My bear pushes against my control, ferocious and demanding.

I can feel myself losing the battle. Kade warned her not to run from my bear.

So why is she doing it now? Did I do something wrong?

Is this about the secret I’ve been keeping from her, the retail space?

Panic rises in my chest, squeezing my lungs until I feel like I might break apart. I press my hand against a nearby tree for support, fighting to maintain control.

“Calm down, please calm down,” I beg my bear. “You’ll hurt her if I let you take over. Jackie is delicate—we can’t be rough with her.”

I push my bear down with all my mental strength and start searching for her, moving slowly and carefully through the trees.

“Jackie, baby,” I call out, my voice strained with the effort of maintaining control. “Please stop running. You don’t understand what you’re doing to my bear.”

She remains quiet, though I can hear her heavy breathing. She’s hiding.

“I can explain my behavior,” I continue, desperation edging into my voice. “Yes, I’ve been keeping secrets from you, but it’s because I wanted the moment to be special.”

Finally, Jackie steps out from behind a large oak tree. She’s wearing a small jacket, leggings, a shirt, and sneakers. The realization hits me—she changed out of her pajamas to get away from me. My mate is trying to run from me.

Take her home.

My bear’s command repeats in my head, over and over, drowning out rational thought. I’m starting to lose any sense of reasoning I have left. My mate wants to leave me, and I can’t let her go. Is it my hovering? Have I been too protective, too overbearing?

The panic overwhelms me, and I feel myself beginning to hyperventilate. My vision blurs, my knees weakening as a sickening dread washes over me. I collapse to the forest floor, my knees hitting the cold earth.

Jackie’s scent shifts suddenly, giving way to concern. She rushes toward me.

“Oh shit, oh no—this isn’t how this was supposed to go,” she says, dropping to her knees in front of me.

I look up at her, my eyes a wild mixture of fear and anger—not directed at her, but at the thought of rejection, of losing the one thing I’ve waited centuries to find.

“Why do you want to leave me?” I ask, my voice breaking. “Please—please Jackie, I will do anything. Anything.” I’m groveling now, but my bear just wants to take Jackie home and fuck some sense into her. No. We can’t do that.

“Jabari, calm down, baby,” she says, reaching for me.

When she comes close, I grip her jacket and pull her against me, pressing my face against her belly and clutching her hips. I cannot let her go. If she wants to leave, I’ll go with her. I’ll do whatever she wants, but she has to stay with me. I need her to stay with me.

“Oh, this was a terrible idea,” she whispers, stroking my beard.

“Nothing about us—what we have—is a terrible idea,” I insist, my voice muffled against her clothing. “This is fate. You are my gift. I did something to ruin that, but I swear I’ll fix it.”

She drops to her knees, eye level with me now, and grips my face with both hands, forcing me to look at her.

“I need you to calm down right now. You’re panicking,” she says.

A tear escapes down my cheek, and I can’t remember the last time I cried—perhaps centuries ago, during the Great War.

“Because I cannot lose you,” I confess, my voice breaking. “I cannot.”

When I start to sob, she shakes me gently. “I’m not running away from you. I love you, Jabari.”

I stiffen at her words. She tells me she loves me all the time in our way, but to hear the actual words escape her lips... it nearly undoes me. I feel myself begin to relax slightly, though my bear remains dangerously close to the surface, barely contained.

“I got this stupid idea that running from your bear would help me be able to claim you,” she explains, her voice soft. “But all I did was hurt you.”

I can barely hear her words through the roaring in my ears. “You don’t want to leave me?” I need confirmation, something to grasp onto.

She sighs, then takes her hand and traces her fingers down my forehead, over the tip of my nose, and brushes across my lips. The familiar gesture centers me, and I close my eyes, savoring her touch.

“I love you, Jabari,” she says. “I’m not going anywhere. I just wanted to have your bear give me a little push. I can’t imagine a life without you. Please calm down. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean?—“

Her words cut off with a yelp as I suddenly stand. All reasoning leaves me, replaced by pure animal instinct.

She gasps and takes a step back, her hands raising defensively. “Okay, hold on here.”

“I want to go home,” I growl, my voice barely recognizable to my own ears.

“Is that you, or your bear talking right now?” she asks, nervousness creeping into her tone.

I lean into her, brushing my nose against her skin, inhaling deeply. Her scent fills my senses—honey and fear and arousal all mixed together in a combination that makes my bear roar with need.

“Both,” I answer with an animalistic growl.

She carefully steps around me, keeping her distance. “Okay, okay, so maybe I went a little overboard with this one. I wasn’t supposed to scare you, just make you chase after me.

I start approaching her with slow, predatory steps, my eyes never leaving hers. She squeals, then takes off running in the direction of the clearing, heading back toward the cabin.

I pause for a moment, trying to rein in my bear, but I’m tired of fighting him. Silas was right—she needs to feel my bear full force. My feet lift off the cold forest floor as I break into a run, chasing after Jackie as she reaches the edge of the clearing.

I gain speed, and just as she is about to scream and potentially startle the entire clan, I reach out and snatch her by the arm. In one fluid motion, I lift her over my shoulder, her weight nothing to my bear’s strength.

I break into another sprint, faster now with my prize secured. As the cabin comes into view, I gather my strength and leap, soaring through the air to land perfectly on the porch, Jackie’s body bouncing slightly against my shoulder from the impact.

“Oh god, you are going to tear my ass up,” she mutters, pounding on my back with her fists.

Her attempts to calm my bear only fuel his need. I push open the door, carrying her inside before setting her down on her feet and slamming the door shut with enough force to rattle the walls.

Jackie stands perfectly still, but I can see the wild thought of running again flickering in her eyes.

“Go ahead, baby,” I challenge, my voice a dangerous purr. “Run a little more.”