Five Years Dead, Still his mate

The Alley

I waited across the street under a busted awning until the club lights died. Rain kept coming down in hard lines. My jacket was already soaked through. I did not care. The only thing that mattered was the door at the back.

She came out at ten past two, tray still in her hands, shoulders rounded from a long shift. She tossed the tray into the bin by the wall and pulled her thin coat tighter. I stepped into the alley before she could reach the street.

“Odessa.”

She spun so fast her shoes slipped on the wet concrete. The tray came up like a weapon.

“Jesus Christ. You again?” Her voice cracked high. “I told Marcus about you. He’s calling the cops if you show up.”

“I need five minutes.”

“You need a therapist.” She edged sideways, eyes cutting toward the mouth of the alley. “Get away from me.”

I moved with her. Not close enough to touch yet. The scent was still there, pine and rain, but under it nothing. No wolf. Not even a trace. That fact sat in my gut like a stone.

“You don’t remember me at all.”

“I remember you being a creep earlier. That’s plenty.” She lifted the tray higher. “Last warning.”

I reached for her wrist. She swung.

The tray caught me across the cheekbone hard enough to snap my head to the side. Plastic and leftover ketchup smeared down my jaw. Pain lit up bright and clean. I did not let go of her arm.

She screamed. Full throated. The sound bounced off the brick walls.

“Let go of me. Let go. Somebody help!”

I hauled her in closer so the words stayed between us. “Look at me. Really look. Five years ago you wore a silver chain with a wolf pendant. You hated olives. You laughed with your whole body. Your left canine was slightly crooked. Tell me none of that is familiar.”

Her free hand shoved at my chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re hurting me.”

“I am not trying to hurt you.”

“Then open your hand.”

I did not. The mate bond should have roared open the second skin met skin. Instead there was only her fear sweat and the cold rain and the wrongness of her human scent. My wolf paced in tight circles inside my skull, confused and furious.

“You’re coming with me,” I said.

“Like hell I am.”

She kicked. Her boot caught my shin. I grunted and shifted my grip to her upper arms. She was stronger than she looked, all panic and elbows. We slammed into the dumpster. The metal rang.

“Stop fighting me.”

“Stop kidnapping me.” Her voice had gone ragged. “I have a shift tomorrow. I have rent due. I have a life that does not include crazy bikers who think I’m their dead girlfriend.”

“You were never just a girlfriend.”

“I was never yours.”

That one landed. I felt it in my teeth. I spun her around and pinned her back against the wall, careful with the pressure but not careful enough to let her run. Rain plastered her hair to her cheeks. Her eyes were wide and wet and completely empty of me.

“Listen,” I said. “Something was done to you. Magic. Memory work. Your body is different. Your scent is wrong. But that mark on your wrist is not a coincidence. I buried a girl with that mark. I put the dirt on her face with my own hands. And now you are standing here breathing.”

She laughed. It sounded like it hurt. “Magic. Right. Sure. Are you high right now?”

“I wish I was.”

Footsteps slapped the pavement at the alley mouth. Marcus the bouncer, flashlight beam cutting through the rain.

“Dess? You out here?”

She sucked in a breath to scream again. I clamped a hand over her mouth and dragged her deeper into the dark, behind the dumpster. She bit me. Hard. Blood welled up between her teeth. I did not pull away.

Marcus’s light swept past us and kept going. His voice faded toward the street. “Must’ve already left. Damn it.”

When the footsteps were gone I eased my hand off her mouth. She spat my blood onto the ground.

“You’re insane,” she whispered. “You’re actually insane.”

“Probably.” I kept her wrists locked in one hand and pulled the truck keys from my pocket with the other. “But you’re still coming.”

“I will claw your eyes out.”

“Try.”

I got the rear door of the truck open and pushed her in before she could brace. She scrambled across the seat and went for the opposite handle. I was already around the hood and in the driver’s seat. The locks clicked down.

She hit the window with her fist. “Open the door. Open it right now.”

I started the engine. Rain hammered the roof. “Seatbelt.”

“Go to hell.”

“Put it on or I will put it on for you.”

She stared at me like I had grown a second head. Then she yanked the belt across her body with enough force to make the mechanism screech.

I pulled out of the lot and headed north. City lights thinned fast. She sat rigid, jaw working, eyes on the side mirror like she could will a police car into existence.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Home.”

“That is not my home.”

“It used to be.”

“You keep saying that like it means something.” She turned in the seat to face me fully. “I have never seen you before tonight. I have never been to whatever compound you think I belong in. My name is Odessa Wren. I wait tables. I live in a one bedroom above a laundromat. I do not know what a mate bond is and I do not care.”

My hands tightened on the wheel until the leather creaked. “You will.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It is a fact.”

She was quiet for three full miles. The only sound was the wipers and her uneven breathing. Then she spoke again, softer.

“If I scream at the next red light, someone will hear.”

“There are no red lights where we are going.”

“You’re going to kill me.”

“If I wanted you dead I would have left you in the ground the first time.”

That shut her up for another stretch of road. I watched her from the corner of my eye. She kept rubbing the wrist I had held, as if the skin itself felt wrong. The crescent mark peeked out every time her sleeve rode up. My wolf still could not find her. That absence was worse than the years of silence.

She broke the quiet first. “What happens when we get there?”

“People will have questions. Some of them will not be friendly.”

“And you?”

“I will keep you breathing. That is the only promise I can make tonight.”

She laughed once, sharp and empty. “Great. My hero.”

The truck ate the miles. Trees closed in on both sides of the road. The compound was still twenty minutes out. She shifted again, testing the door lock with her elbow when she thought I was not looking.

“Don’t,” I said.

“Or what?”

“Or I will pull over and we will have this conversation in the mud. Your choice.”

Her shoulders slumped. Not surrender. Exhaustion. The kind that comes after adrenaline burns out and leaves the body shaking. She pressed her forehead to the cold window glass.

“I hate you,” she said to the dark. “I don’t even know you and I already hate you.”

I stared at the road ahead. Rain turned the headlights into tunnels. Somewhere behind my ribs the bond that should have been singing sat silent and wrong.

“Yeah,” I said. “I know.”

The gates of the compound rose out of the storm like black teeth. Floodlights snapped on. Armed men stepped into the road. Odessa sat up straight, eyes wide, fingers digging into the seat.

I rolled the window down just enough for Solomon’s face to appear out of the rain.

He took one look at the woman in my passenger seat and his expression went flat.

“Alpha. What the f**k did you bring home?”