Throwing open the door and stumbling inside the cabin, there was only one thought on Walker’s mind. It spun and whirled, banging around up there, eating at him from the inside like some sort of ravenous, torturous parasite.
She’s mated. To him. Callik. Or they’re going to be. She’s going to be mated to him, trapped in a vow. She’s really going to find her pelt and leave—
He managed to make it further inside, falling into one of the mismatched chairs gathered around a small, mahogany dining table. He blinked, staring into space, feeling like someone had round-house kicked him in the chest.
It was also damned shame the fridge was empty – and unlikely to be working after he’d abandoned it for so long – because he suddenly could have used a drink.
A cold, bland beer. That’s what he need
