24. Draven
24
DRAVEN
“ W hat the fuck was that?” I snarl, glaring at Noah, my personal driver. “Do you really think that yelling at a young girl is the way to go about doing your job for me?”
“Mr Westfall?—”
“Do not utter my name,” I snap, my words lowering into something more animal than bear. “You’re fired. Immediately. And if you don’t leave my sight in the next thirty seconds, your life will pay the price for your insolence.”
“But, Mr… But?—”
“Get out of my sight. Now.” I roar, my eyes flashing, and he scampers off, not once looking back at me.
I’m fucking furious. The ursarix prowls beneath my skin, claws scratching for release, desperate to hunt down our mate—to soothe her, to protect her.
We can’t give in.
She’s too pretty, too dainty, too perfect , for someone like me—for a beast like us . Soft, mythical, terrified.
Noah has ruined this for me. He’s ruined my one chance to make a decent first impression. Now, she’ll never be able to see me as more than the feral monster they paint me as.
My chest tightens as I think of her face, the way her eyes widened, the challenge in her voice. I should’ve been the one she looked to for protection—not him, not that pathetic excuse for a guard who stood back, useless.
He’s a coward. Worthless.
A waste of oxygen.
I want to find out who she is and get rid of that pathetic man she called a security guard. Any man who can stand by and let a woman be screamed at doesn’t deserve to live.
Any man who would watch my mate be screamed at? The urge to tear him apart, limb from limb, is almost too much to resist. He’s going to pay before ultimately losing his life.
I don’t know who she is. I don’t know when I’ll next see her.
But I know she’s mine.
And I might not be worth much, but I will always, always protect what is mine.
The thought of her alone, unprotected, claws at my mind. My bear rumbles, angry, and I’ve got to suppress the need to find her. Again .
I grab my files from the car, not giving a fuck that the engine is still running. If it gets stolen, it’s another black mark against Noah. He’s already going to die, at least this way, he might face some legal repercussions from the company he works for beforehand.
I stride across the street, rounding the corner to Legal Pride, my eyes darting up and down the streets, instinctively searching for the gorgeous blonde in the pale purple dress. I was never meant to be back in time to work today, but here I am.
Lucky for me, unlucky for everyone else.
I’ve got a new case and don’t have the time to waste sitting at home resting. I press the button for the lift and step straight inside, jamming my finger on the close door button.
“Good afternoon—” a dark-haired panda shifter says.
“Don’t even think about it,” I snarl, flashing my teeth in warning at the three interns who are about to step into the lift with me.
The bear inside me surges forward, territorial, unwilling to let anyone else’s stink overtake the decadent scent of my mate in my nostrils.
The panda holds his hands up in submission and steps back, and I lean against the railing, letting the coolness of the metal soothe me.
I don’t want company. I don’t think I could stop myself from killing them if their disgusting scents were to muddy the air.
I’m pathetic. But my bear aches for her—my soul in agony since she left.
She let me protect her. She let me save her from danger.
She’s mine.
Well, she was until she stormed away like an angel seeking vengeance. And, fuck, she was glorious, so much fire in her.
But what she doesn’t realise yet is that she doesn’t need to be the one claiming revenge anymore.
I’ll do it for her without hesitation.
I know I’m not good enough to be her mate. I never will be. I’m as surprised as anyone that fate decided to punish someone like her by tying them to me.
“Oh, Draven,” Cheryl says, rising from her desk as I step out of the lifts. “What are you doing in the office today?”
“New case.”
“Have you come straight from the airport?” she asks, grabbing a pile of notices for me from her top drawer. I nod, and she sighs. “Before you start, I need to warn you?—”
My phone buzzes and I groan. “No time.”
“Draven, this is important?—”
“I said no time ,” I growl, and she drops back into her seat, hanging her head.
I slam my office door, pressing the speaker button as I notice that it’s Malachi Romero from HR calling. Oh, for fuck’s sake.
I toss my files onto my desk, putting my phone down on top of that, as I move to open up my blinds at the side of my desk. I want to be able to see outside.
The ursarix inside me hates being caged here. Little things like this—sunlight, open space—help keep him under control. But not by much.
“What?” I demand.
“Is that any way to talk to your boss?” he asks.
“You’re not my boss. What do you want?”
“I’ve had a complaint from your driver—Noah—about threats you’ve made,” Malachi says, sounding pretty amused. “He claims you’ve threatened to kill him.”
“It’s not a threat. He’s dead the moment I catch sight of him.”
Malachi groans. “What did he do? You’re not usually this… severe in your methods.”
“None of your business.”
He sighs. “Have you met her yet?”
“Met who?”
Does he already know about my mate? Has he got someone watching me? How the fuck does he know? My ursarix tenses, clawing at my skin, begging me to shift.
“Maeve. Your new employee?”
Cheryl’s warning. Fuck’s sake.
This is the last thing I need today.
“Get rid of her,” I demand.
“No.”
I roar down the line. “I’m not fucking kidding, Malachi. Get rid of her or she’s joining Noah in the land of the dead. I am not in the mood for this today.”
“You really are in a bad mood. Well, I hedge my bets on her. Good luck.”
I snarl, slamming my thumb into the screen to hang up on him and accidentally shatter the screen. My bear rumbles with fury. Oh, well. Just another thing to remind me how broken I am.
I turn towards the adjoining office. The blinds are closed. A light seeps out from underneath the crack in the door. Someone’s been in my space, invaded it without my permission.
I reach for the handle and try to open it, but it’s locked.
There we go. Sackable offence.
My bear rumbles in fury. No one should be in there. No one but my mate should ever be near my space, and yet, this woman dares dishonour us.
“Draven,” Cheryl calls.
“I’ll deal with you later,” I snap, wrenching open the door to my new employee’s office, a snarl on my face.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Her voice cuts through the air like a blade. Sharp. Beautiful.
The world stills as I take her in.
My ursarix roars in recognition, the need to claim her, to protect her, surging up inside me. My chest tightens at the vision of fury on her face.
My mate.
Maeve. Such a beautiful name for someone so perfect.
My mate is here. In my office.
“Excuse me, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Maeve snarls, her blue eyes darkening.
She’s fucking gorgeous. Maeve .
“You’re my new employee,” I utter.
Her brows practically reach her hairline as recognition falls upon her face. “ You’re Draven?”
“Yes.”
“Draven Westfall?” she asks.
“Yes.”
Her eyes sweep over me, piercing, almost assessing. And then she sneers. The coldness of her expression senses a jolt of pain through me—through us both.
“I was warned you were hard to work with.”
It stings.
It’s not inaccurate.
I’ve never cared what people say about me. I don’t care about any of them or their opinions.
But it hurts that my mate knows only the worst before we even begin.
“Try your best to fire me, Draven, but I won’t be going anywhere,” she says firmly. “I want this job, and if anyone is leaving, it’s going to be you.”
My heart skips a beat, the beast inside me rumbling in approval. She’s fierce—she’s glorious. I fucking love it.
I startle out a laugh. “Why do you want this job? It’s not that glorious.”
She smirks at me. “You clearly don’t understand the scope of your own job then, but trust me, this is the best one in the entire world.”
“I see.”
I really don’t. My bear is furious that I’m not already on my knees, begging for her forgiveness. Begging her to accept us . But something tells me she won’t be receptive to that, even if I were to try.
“I’ve fired my driver,” I say, moving forward.
“I fired my security,” she replies, her eyes narrowing into slits. She’s guarded, so defensive, so careful with her words. It’s almost like a challenge.
I don’t like it.
I won’t stand for it.
“Good. Name?”
“Maeve,” she says, slowly, looking at me as if I’m stupid.
I grin at her, and her shoulders relax ever so slightly. The tiniest sign of trust, and it makes my bear settle, even just a little.
“ His name.”
“Why?”
“Are you always this guarded?” I counter, knowing I’ll get it from her one way or another. I’ll pick my battles.
She shrugs. “You clearly weren’t expecting me, so let me give you the rundown that HR should have.”
“Please do.” My bear and I are enthralled, hanging onto every word, every movement.
She’s not backed down, not once hesitated or faltered. I don’t understand it.
I’m an ursarix, and I’m meant to have a calm aura that helps soothe those around me. My kind used to be some of the best healers in the world because of it.
They could put people at ease, they could calm a shifter with a single touch.
They were natural caregivers, amplifying the traits of a standard bear shifter and taking it to the extreme.
Where normal bear shifters only care about their mate, their immediate family, ursarix’s were far more social.
People-pleasing, people-centric, people-dependent.
But I’ve never been that way. I’m fucked up—a beast. A danger. My ursarix and I have never been the same way since my mother died.
Since she was murdered right in front of me.
We’re cold, dangerous, feral.
People avoid me, they’re terrified to be around me, and those who can stomach it, can’t ever let their guard down around me due to their fear that I’ll snap and hurt them.
It’s a rational fear, considering I’ve got no qualms with unleashing my ursarix when it’s needed.
But Maeve? My mate can not only withstand me, but there’s not a single ounce of fear in her face or her scent.
Just the beautiful floral scent of pink roses and the sickly sweet honey.
There’s a fire in her bright blue eyes that is unrivalled.
She’s perfection.
“You don’t touch me. You don’t crowd me. You don’t invade my space. You don’t even breathe on me without permission,” she says, and I latch onto her every word. “I am your employee and nothing more.”
Rejection slams into me, a soul-crushing wave of agony that drowns my bear and I.
We don’t touch her.
We aren’t worthy of her.
She wants this job—she needs this job—but she wants nothing more from me.
My knees nearly buckle under the weight of this rejection, my ursarix howling and crying.
“Understood, Maeve,” I choke out, only the scent of her fear keeping me grounded in the moment.
“I mean it,” she says, losing some of the heat. “I don’t touch, Draven. It’s the ultimate deal breaker.”
“Trust me, I’ll not cross that line,” I say, giving her a tight smile. “I’ve just got back from a case, but I’ve got another one that is quite time-restrictive.”
Her expression shifts. It’s like her mask slips back into place, and all signs of her fire have gone—replaced by a cold professionalism. She’s in work-mode, and whilst it’s impressive, I don’t like that she’s hiding from me.
“What can I do?”
“Meet me in my office in fifteen minutes,” I say, turning to leave. The scent of pink roses and honey clings to me, almost too sweet to handle. I toss a look over my shoulder. “And, Maeve?”
“Yes?”
“Unlock that door. That’s a deal breaker for me .”
She stiffens, clearly not liking the idea, but she nods. I didn’t push on the blinds, not trying to force a way into her office— yet .
But I can’t have her locked away.
She might get hurt. She might need me.
The extra minute or two it would take to round our offices could cost her time—cost her her life .
I ignore Cheryl’s look as I storm into the break room, putting the kettle on. I don’t know what Maeve drinks, but I prep it all—tea with honey, tea on its own, coffee, decaf, and hot chocolate. Sugar, milk, all of it.
I arrange it on a tray, aware of how pathetic this must look. I balance it in two hands, carrying it through to my office, once more ignoring the gaping look of surprise from my receptionist. She’s the best one I’ve had, since she tends to leave me alone and handles the brunt of the client work, but I have no qualms in firing her if she opens her mouth.
I don’t care for her that much.
I pull out a bottle of water from my mini-fridge and grab a few snacks. A bar of chocolate, a protein bar, and a fruit bar.
She was nearly hit by a car— my fucking car —and then she had to deal with me storming into her office, unleashing a mate bond she didn’t want.
I can’t blame her for rejecting me. I know I’m not worthy of her. I can’t blame her for not wanting someone like me. I’m hideous, I’m feral , and she deserves so much more.
I can’t be the mate she deserves, so instead, I’ll be the boss she deserves.
There’s a soft knock on my office door, sadly, not on our conjoined one, before she peeks her head around the corner. She’s carrying her laptop, and I beckon her in.
“Come, sit,” I say, gesturing to my office chairs.
“I’d rather sit here, if that’s okay,” she says, gesturing to the wooden ones I’ve got put out for clients.
I frown. “Would you prefer my desk chair?”
She shakes her head. “I’m sensory averse. This is fine.”
My bear rages inside me, clawing at my mind, desperate to remove the unsettled look from her face and make things better for her. I’ll get a catalogue and order her whatever she needs. She’ll never be uncomfortable again.
“I made drinks,” I say, carrying the tray over to the coffee table in front of her. Her eyes widen, looking over them all before raising her eyes to mine.
“Why?”
“Because.”
She tightens her lips together, trying to hide her amusement. “I see.”
“Do you want water? Tea? Decaf?” I ask.
“Water will be fine, thank you,” she murmurs, and I place the bottle in front of her before taking the tea with no honey. I add two sugars and a dash of milk before stirring it together.
“So, the case?” Maeve asks once I’m settled.
I pull out the documents and get to work outlining the information to her.
If I spend more time looking into her eyes than at the words on the papers in front of me, that’s none of anyone’s business.