Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Garrak
On the third day after claiming Stevie, I finally awoke feeling…satiated. Happy. My Kteer was at peace, purring contentedly, and I smiled lazily, knowing I’d pleasured my Mate again and again.
I needed to think about moving someplace with better sound-proofing.
Perhaps I ought to consider starting the process to build on my piece of property. It hadn’t seemed necessary until now, but the thought of Stevie being able to scream my name as loudly as she wanted, without having to be worried about being overheard…
On the other hand, I remembered how she responded when I fucked her in public. Maybe my fierce Mate didn’t mind being on display like that.
With a contented groan, I stretched and rolled over, surprised to discover Stevie wasn’t in the bed.
I assumed she was in the kitchen since I didn’t hear her in the bathroom.
She knew it was my responsibility to care for her, but she did make excellent omelets, so perhaps I should consider letting her cook for me if she wanted to…
Why couldn’t I hear her?
For that matter…
We were Mated now, and I should be able to feel her.
I sat up and swung my legs from the bed, reaching for my cane.
“Stevie?” There was no answer as I hopped over to the chair where I could attach my leg.
Gods below, I don’t think I ever put the damned thing on yesterday, did I?
We spent the day in bed, and I couldn’t help the way I preened at the memory of her pleasure.
“Stevie, sweetheart, where are you?” I stomped my foot to settle the leg, then pulled on a pair of shorts and headed for the living room. “You out here?”
She wasn’t in the living room. Or the bathroom or the kitchen.
The fucking condo isn’t that big, and I knew the truth before I even finished searching: She wasn’t here.
Frowning, I stood in the living room, hands on my hips, and glanced about. The place was a mess, but the clothing I’d bought her had been picked up and put away, I guess. She wasn’t home.
Where was she?
After an increasingly frantic six and a half minutes, I found her folded letter by the coffee maker. It was covered in her scent, and I realized my hands were shaking as I stared down at it.
You have to read it, you idiot.
Yeah, except…
I took a deep breath.
Except, I couldn’t help but thinking that a letter had started all this. The empty pit in my stomach made me wonder if a letter was going to end it too.
No. She’s your Mate.
Whatever the letter said, I could fix this. I was determined to have a forever with Stevie.
And who knows, maybe she’d just gone out for donuts or something?
My fingers fumbled the paper open.
Dear Garrak,
Let me start by saying that you’re my favorite person. Nothing will change that. I care about you us, and I want this to work. But I need some time to myself to think things through. You tell me we’re Mates, and we’re together now that you’ve—you know. “Claimed me”.
But I’m afraid you don’t see the real me, Garrak.
You take care of me when I need it, and I’m grateful for that.
And for your protection. But I don’t need that ALL the time, and I don’t know if you can understand that.
Can you let me fail and make mistakes and be responsible for myself, while still being with you?
I don’t know.
I want to be with you. Desperately and forever.
But I also don’t want to spend forever just sitting on my ass being taken care of by you.
Although the bubble baths ARE nice. Fuck I’m not making a lot of sense, and I’m sorry.
I just need to get my head straight. I love the sex and the comfort and the protection and the way you make me feel safe and beautiful and and and
See what I mean? I love all that, but I’m scared of becoming who you need me to be, just to be able to experience all that. Give me a few days to figure it out, okay? I’ll see you in New Orleans.
Yours,
Stevie
My knees had given out, and when I reached the end of the letter, I realized I had sagged against the counter.
She hadn’t gone out for donuts. She’d left. Gone.
I slid to the floor, sitting on my ass on the tiles, her letter in my fist. The joy I’d felt as I woke up was gone, replaced by an emptiness. My Kteer was quiet, and that was eerie as fuck. It was as if none of me knew what to do.
My Mate was gone.
I dropped my head to my forearm, braced on my knee. I was breathing too fast, too desperately. Stevie was gone.
Not forever. She’s not gone for good.
Right.
Right. I’d dealt with loss. My father as a toddler, my mother as an adult. The three friends I couldn’t reach in time in the darkness of the collapsed mine. Others whom I loved. I couldn’t lose Stevie.
Calm the fuck down. She’s not gone for good, she just needs some time alone.
Right.
I could understand that, right? I mean, we’d been together non-stop for a week and a half, right? Of course she needed time to process this! Two weeks ago, she didn’t know me, and now we’re Mated and planning a future—
You’re planning a future. She hasn’t agreed to anything yet.
Oh gods below, was that the truth?
I squeezed my eyes shut and groaned, trying to remember all the discussions we’d had recently about being Mated and building a future together. Stevie had responded to me with enthusiasm, but she’d said little about my plans. Why?
Read the fucking letter again, you asshole. She told you why.
Right.
I swallowed and forced my head up.
Well, first things first. My Mate was out there, alone and vulnerable, and I needed to get to her and protect her. She could think things through once I knew she was safe and—
No.
My Kteer rumbled slightly as I stared down at the letter in my hand.
No.
No, that was what I needed, not what she needed.
I couldn’t go after her, could I? I needed to allow her to do this alone, to be alone. Alone and strong. I needed to trust her, trust in her abilities. Trust in the fact that she’d kept herself safe for years before I knew her, trust her.
I squeezed my eyes shut again. I couldn’t call her, couldn’t run after her. I needed to trust her to keep herself safe, and trust that I would see her again in New Orleans in a few days.
It’s going to be a long fucking few days.
It was.
I’m not sure how I got through it. For the first time in my life, I didn’t have work to throw myself into, and all my guys were where they were supposed to be, thriving in their own lives. I was useless and anxious and beyond lost.
Not too proud to admit I got drunk a few times, either.
Saturday evening found me sitting on the couch, staring at the dark television. I didn’t even have the will to reach for the remote… I just sat there, staring at that black square, imagining worst-case scenarios.
Stevie didn’t come home. She didn’t think of this place as home. She didn’t want me, didn’t want what I could offer. She rejected the Mate bond. She—
No.
No, worst-case scenario was that she was hurt someplace. She was with her father again and he was hurting her. That she was crying and in pain, and I couldn’t—
I growled, my throat hurting.
Maybe I could drag my sorry ass to that new gym. Or to the whiskey bottle. I needed a distraction.
Just to prove that the gods love irony, that’s the moment there was a knock at the door.
My senses told me it wasn’t Stevie, so I ignored it.
Unfortunately, the bastard didn’t ignore me. When he pushed open the door, I caught Brakkor’s scent and would have groaned in irritation if I had the motivation.
“Go away,” I rasped.
Was that really my voice? Gods below, I was a pile of shit by now, wasn’t I?
Brakkor ignored my command. Shouldn’t be surprised.
He stomped into my home and plopped onto the other end of the couch. I wanted to ignore him, but then a cooler landed between us, and when he began to root around in it, I glanced over despite myself.
He noticed. Because of course he did. “No poker game tonight, we figured.”
I grunted, not sure where he was going with this. I’d forgotten about the weekly poker game. Hells, I’d forgotten it was Saturday. I damn well didn’t set it up, although maybe I should have. Maybe it would have helped.
Like you’d be able to concentrate?
Brakkor held out a beer bottle without judgment. “But your Mate’s gone, so I figured you could use this.”
Slowly, I reached out and accepted the offering. “I thought you don’t believe in Mates?” I rasped warily.
“I don’t, but you do.” He nodded to the beer. “Sounds like you need that.”
I drank.
On the other end of the couch, Brakkor made a grunting noise that might have been approval, and I hated the way my Kteer preened. I didn’t need his approval!
…did I?
We drank in silence for a few minutes, both of us staring at that dark television screen. Or maybe out the dark window. Darkness, either way, was the point.
So dark.
“So…” Brakkor shifted on the cushions. “What are you going to do?”
I didn’t answer because I didn’t know.
He waited a while, then asked, “Where’d she go?”
I didn’t answer him then, either.
Didn’t want to answer him, even if I could.
Then the asshole reached for the cooler again. “You don’t know, huh? I bet that’s galling as hells, that you can’t run off to protect her.”
Galling? Try eating me up inside.
I turned to snarl at him, and Brakkor shoved another beer in my hand. That’s when I realized I’d finished the first one.
Seemed easier to drink than to argue.
I drank.
And you know what? I felt brave enough to answer him. “Yeah, it’s galling. But she’s strong. Stevie survived without me before.” My fingers tightened around the can, denting it slightly. “She’ll survive now.”
“Fuck,” Brakkor whispered. “You must be hating this. Where’d she go?”
I didn’t know, and that was the problem.
With a grunt, I pushed myself to my feet, more to avoid the conversation than to alleviate his curiosity. Stevie’s letter was folded on the table. I hadn’t eaten there since she’d left. I’m not sure I’d eaten at all, to be honest.
I picked up the letter and tossed it to Brakkor before stomping into the kitchen.
Behind me, I heard him open it and begin to read as I stuck my head into the empty refrigerator. I suppose I should have gone shopping. There was always carry out, but I couldn’t be bothered…
With a sigh, I closed it just as Brakkor ambled in, toting that cooler. “So your Mate went off to prove to you that she can survive?”
“Maybe prove to herself,” I mumbled, tipping my head back and closing my eyes. “Fuck, I don’t know.”
“She’s right.”
I twisted to scowl at him. “What?”
But Brakkor had placed the cooler on the counter, and now pulled out a long sub sandwich that smelled of prosciutto and ham and salami and all my favorite things. My stomach growled just as he thrust the thing at me.
“Here.”
I took it. I mean, of course I was going to fucking take it. It smelled delicious, and I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until that moment.
“She’s right,” Brakkor repeated, eyeing me chowing down on the sandwich, and already pulling out a second and a third from the cooler. “You hover over all of us.”
Through a mouthful of meat, I growled, “You think I’m wrong—”
“No, you dipshit, we love you for it, but you treat us like we’re competent and you expect us to do our jobs.” Shaking his head, he reached for another beer and propped his ass on my counter as he watched me slowly chew. “You always have. You respect us.”
I swallowed carefully. “I respect Stevie. She’s my Mate.”
But Brakkor shook his head. “You’ve been treating her like she’s made of spun sugar, like she’s going to melt during a light rain.”
Had I? “Is that a bad thing?”
Since I’d finished the first sandwich, he tossed me another. “When I showed up in here with that hoagie, you wanted it?”
I paused in my unwrapping. “Yeah,” I admitted warily.
“But you hesitated to take it. Fuck, you hesitated to admit it right there, see? You suck at accepting help, Garrak. You’re always so focused on helping us that you forget we need our own purpose.”
I didn’t understand.
Frowning, I considered him as I chewed and he sipped his beer, watching me. Finally I swallowed.
“I thought we just established that I respect you and think you’re competent and can do your jobs?”
“Yeah,” he agreed immediately. “Jobs you helped us find here on Eastshore. We’re making a place for ourselves, just like you are.”
I still didn’t understand, but the meat was helping. Salami made most things clearer. I shook my head as I chewed. “Make sense, Brakkor,” I commanded from one side of my mouth.
Was it my imagination, or did the other male’s lips twitch as he dug out a sandwich for himself? Impossible—I couldn’t recall the last time I’d seen him smile unless he was mocking me.
“My point, D’malk, is that if you want Stevie to have a place with you, she needs a place.
She needs to do what we’ve all done and make herself a place on the island.
You can help her, like you helped us, but you have to trust her enough to know she can build that place, the same as you trusted us. ”
When he realized I was staring at him, Brakkor paused, sandwich halfway to his mouth. “What?”
“That does make sense.”
“You have to give her a reason for being with you that’s not just great sex. Don’t deny it—we can hear her screaming down the hall. You’ve traumatized my nephew.”
Slowly, I straightened.
Maybe it was the food.
Maybe it was my friend.
Maybe it was the way he’d finally made me understand.
Maybe it was the beginning of an idea I realized was tickling the back of my mind.
All I knew was that, for the first time since I’d woken up to that letter, I felt…stronger. More purposeful. I needed Stevie, and for the first time, I had a thought of how I was supposed to convince her to come home.
To me.
Brakkor was watching me as he chewed, and I—suddenly filled with a bloom of hope—smiled at him. “I don’t care what everyone says about you, Brakkor, you’re not an idiot.”
He snorted and, since his mouth was full, lifted his middle finger in my direction, a useful piece of human communication my guys had all adopted.
I reached for my beer with my free hand as I bit into the surprisingly delicious sandwich. It was time for action.
In a few days, I’d be in New Orleans, and gods willing, so would Stevie. I had to convince her she had a place here with me.
On Eastshore.
Making the world a better place.