CHAPTER 14: UNSCHEDULED AGONY
771 Words
Zakk’s pov
The private jet smelled of recycled air, leather, and Zane’s antiseptic cologne. It had been seven days since we left Seattle for this "urgent deployment," and every second felt like a decade trapped in a sensory deprivation tank.
I stared out the window at the endless expanse of clouds, but all I could see was the memory of Andre’s face. Specifically, the terrified, flushed look she had when I pressed her against the kitchen counter, just before we left. I knew she was ready to break. I knew she was desperate.
And then we had abandoned her.
"This was a tactical mistake, Zane," I muttered, leaning forward and resting my elbows on my knees. The movement was restless, a symptom of the low-grade fever the Mate Bond withdrawal had induced.
Zane, ever the picture of control, didn't look up from his encrypted tablet. "It was necessary. You know it was. Our initial strategies—your aggression, my protection—were collapsing her human defenses too quickly. She needed to experience the need for the bond herself. We needed her to come to us, not be forced."
"And what if she breaks?" I snarled, the edge of my wolf surfacing in my voice. "What if the withdrawal is too much for her nascent wolf and she spirals? What if some other pack smells her desperation?"
Zane finally dropped the tablet, the sharp click echoing in the cabin. His eyes, usually cool, were tired and bloodshot—proof that he was suffering too.
"She’s resilient," Zane said, though his voice lacked conviction. "And she’s under our roof, which provides protection. Besides, you're projecting, Zakk. You're the one who can barely sit still."
He was right. While Zane could intellectualize the strategy, I was suffering a physical torment. The Mate Bond was strongest through me; I held the missing piece of her soul. The sudden absence of her reciprocal energy was an agonizing void that made my skin crawl and my muscles ache.
I hadn't slept properly since we left. Every time I closed my eyes, the memory of her scent—fading rapidly from my clothes, maddeningly retained in my memory—would flood my senses, immediately followed by the emptiness. The primal, possessive instinct to run back, burst into her room, and bury myself in her presence was a constant, internal battle.
We had managed to keep up the polite, distant façade over our video conference calls with Henry and Sarah. We kept the calls short, asking generic questions about the house and garden. We didn't dare ask about Andre. Henry would interpret it as familial concern; we knew we couldn't trust our voices to hide the desperation.
"I need her to break," I confessed, the words tasting like ash. "I need the bond to be complete. I can’t function like this, Zane. I feel like a limb is missing. I was supposed to be the one who completed her, and now I'm just an empty space."
I looked down at my hands. They were clenched tight, ready to snap the bones of the seat. The lack of physical connection was manifesting as a constant, restless energy that I couldn't dissipate.
"The job is done," I stated, leaning back against the leather. "We secured the contract. We shook the right hands. We have suffered enough for your strategy. We are leaving tonight."
Zane remained silent, watching me. He didn't disagree. He couldn't. He knew I was at my breaking point, and he knew that my break would compromise the mission.
"I've already booked the plane," Zane admitted, a small, weary sigh escaping him. "We're leaving Seattle in three hours. We'll be back in the house by dawn."
A vicious, possessive thrill shot through me, momentarily overpowering the agony of the withdrawal. "Good. When we get back, there will be no more games. No more subtle glances across the dinner table. She's been starved. She will initiate the completion, and when she does, we both take the claim."
I closed my eyes, letting the anticipation replace the agonizing emptiness. The thought of her desperate hunger, of the tears she must have shed, of the relief she would feel when our scent finally hit her—it was a powerful aphrodisiac. I wanted her to be broken, needy, and utterly reliant on our return.
And I wanted her to know that the pain of the absence was nothing compared to the overwhelming, dual power of the Mate Bond when we were finally together.
- Writer
