“Alora, I believe that may be our escort. This is route ten.” The doctor nudges me lightly, snapping me out of my long weird daydream in which I bludgeoned Carmen to death with Colton’s running shoes, before handing them back to him and walking off into the sunset with a flip of my finger, and I sit upright startled to reality. Heart missing a beat and full on nerves smacking me in the stomach.

There’s a convoy of headlights heading our way in the now pitch-dark, long road, stretching ahead, dazzling us slightly as they approach, along what seems to be a long empty highway, lined with dense trees on either side of us. I hadn’t even noticed the change in terrain when we got off the dirt track and got onto an actual road. My insides tighten, tense, and painfully pray it is who it is.

I lift the veil and link him, in case we’re not at where they are yet, and this is someone I should be worried about. I don’t see any other vehicles on the road.

Colton please tell me that’s you, the convoy heading towards the military truck on route ten?

I hold my breath, pausing as nervous energy overtakes and straining to see beyond the blinding lights, but it’s too dark to make out if the trucks are Santo at all. All I can tell is there is a succession of them as they weave slightly, and headlights peek out on the route ahead.

It’s us. You’re safe. Pull over.

That husky warm flow of assurance as I hear him inside my mind and I relax a little, letting out the breath I was holding in anticipation. He sounds weird, tense, and maybe still a little annoyed, probably from obsessing over my ‘boyfriend’ in the last half hour, or however long we’ve been driving. I’ve been silently staring out the window, lost in my own head, and the doc just kept ploughing on heading north. No concept of time.

Shouldn’t we just follow you?

I query, confused that with the possibility of a pack on our tail that he should want us to stop and not keep moving. I don’t understand why he would expect us to.

PULL. OVER!

It’s a sharp command, not a request. No hint of polite, or even trying to explain. In that bossy, arrogant, snarly, I am pissed tone, that verges on his alpha gift and I wonder what the hell is eating him. From seemingly calm, and logical, to idiot in a millisecond, all because I questioned him. Maybe he is like his father after all, and that gives me the unyielding urge to tell him where to get off. It brings back my rage from earlier and I spin my head to the doctor with attitude.

to argue about it.” I sound

making. If he’s anything like his mother, I would say it’s better to accept a request and question later.” It’s an almost submissive stance to take, but the doc looks tired and weary, and maybe he needs a commander

the back of the truck, exhaling and stretching with relief when he gets to the standing room part of the back. I watch him for a

my door and hopping out before I scream. I’m overcome with the sudden heavy nervous tension of seeing him again, and the rising flames of temper and accusation,

can’t sit at peace

mood levelling before that moment of reunion with him. I

black dressed, very large figure, cutting down from this side and yelp with the collision. Knocked back momentarily, not really hurt, but definitely winded, my heart skipping a beat which instantly makes my legs go weak, and my

back and stare…. wide eyed, lost for words. We just sort of stand and look at one another for a crazily heavy, and lengthy, loaded second, so much translating in the moment and then he lurches forward, partially shadowed out so I can’t make out his face perfectly. He grabs

of his embrace, hugging me in completely, and burying his face in the crook of

hold me, and I have to swallow back the overwhelming surge of emotion that has my heart rate hitching, and my breathing getting shallow. Biting back instant tears, and I taste my

place. Pushing his face against mine so we’re cheek to cheek, but his nose grazes my shoulder and I hear, and feel him inhale and release with the same depth of relief I did. That strong contentment of finally

to get lost in everything that’s good about him. So caught in the heady sensation of being back in his arms as he wraps me up, like a mouse caught in a snake’s death grip, with no hope of escape. I almost fade out into nothing, but feelings of tingles, warm inner waves, and butterflies, and senses of belonging, when something mentally slaps me in the face and reminds me what

him reeling back. His arms impulsively splaying out to stop himself and he manages to stay upright, even though it’s obvious I managed to throw him off. That look of utter shock that I just overpowered him, and about landed him on his ass, and my

forget that betraying asshole has a mate out there who wouldn’t be too pleased to see how he’s behaving with another femme. Even if I was his fated mate once upon a

from

right now? Do you know how much shit I’ve been through for weeks on end, trying to find you, and this is the thanks I get? You asked me to come! I’m beyond happy to see you. Excuse me for wanting to react and touch you, when you’re all I have thought about for weeks.” my anger seems to feed his, and instead of love confessions and apologies, I’m getting asshole Colton. Sometimes I forget he’s a Santo, and then he swoops right back in and reminds me what

for me all those weeks, so don’t even with that bullshit. And You…. YOU are the reason I left, so no, I owe you no thanks and give no shits about whatever you’ve suffered in the meantime. You don’t get to touch me anymore. Now shut up and let me past. I have to tell him you’re

he is to you, I’m going to fuck him up!” It’s a vicious jealous outburst, fueled with a sudden searing rage that even I can feel flowing from him as he springs back

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