Chapter 19 Nick #2
Mate? I almost laughed. I didn’t know anything about that. Didn’t want to. But the image of her body against the forest floor lingered. The memory of her heat against mine, her scent that took over my senses, the way her gaze dared me to try to resist.
I wasn’t a beast. I was a man. A cop. I didn’t stalk women, didn’t take what wasn’t offered, didn’t want to throw her to the ground and fuck her until she forgot her own name and only called out mine.
Except I did.
The thought had acid crawling up my throat.
My gaze landed on the Armani suit she’d sent, still in the box, smooth and immaculate. Earlier, I’d run my hand over the fabric, afraid to touch it too long, afraid I’d ruin it. Was this her idea of control? To show off what she could do? What she could buy me?
I should be disgusted, should throw the suit into the dumpster, but my legs and arms wouldn't move. A single thought had completely captured my mind. Why do I crave her attention?
Lifting my arm without thinking, I inhaled my skin, filling my lungs with her even as I hated it.
Her scent, wildflowers and sweet honey, still clung to me from our fuck in the woods, and I couldn’t stop gulping it down.
I wouldn’t have pegged that scent for her, not with the way she carried herself, but somehow, it fit.
Somehow, it felt like it should be hers.
And worse, it felt like it should be mine.
I shoved my arm away, disgusted by the heat rolling through me and the whisper of want curling under my ribs.
Dragging my open laptop onto my lap, I forced myself to focus. To remember who she was. A criminal. A killer. A damn supe.
The files didn’t soften the image. Photos of bodies. Reports of fights she’d won with brutal efficiency. A demon flayed open for disrespecting her sister. A werewolf left broken after crossing her. Every word painted her as untouchable, terrifying.
When I thought back to the fight we’d had, I could still see it. The dangerous spark behind her eyes, the precision in every strike that allowed her to take down her opponent swiftly and without mercy. The beast inside me stirred, admiring her, recognizing something that mirrored itself.
Mate strong. Perfect.
My jaw tightened, but I couldn’t disagree. She was strong.
That thought, that memory, it bled into another. Her body pressed to mine. Those sculpted thighs parting for me, that toned back bending against my chest. Just picturing that powerful body beneath me, writhing in pleasure from what I was doing to her, made blood rush to my dick.
But that wasn't what I wanted. No. That was what the beast inside me wanted.
What I wanted was someone like my ex, Faith. Soft. Sweet. Someone who needed protection, who needed me to feel safe and secure. That was the kind of woman I wanted by my side… right?
Why couldn’t I remember her face anymore? Why couldn’t I recall the sound of her voice or the scent of her hair? My memory of Faith was disappearing like she’d never existed, replaced with a set of jewel-toned pink eyes and a wicked smile.
I closed my eyes, trying to think about and feel what my life had been like before I’d been turned, but it was slowly slipping away from me like sand through my fingers.
Maybe it wasn’t memory loss. Maybe it was instinct.
Maybe the man I’d been wasn’t disappearing but being replaced by him, the beast. This thing that called Nova mate.
A buzz sliced through the silence of the apartment, and I glanced around, looking for my phone. As soon as I saw the screen and who the message was from, my body went still.
For a heartbeat, I didn’t breathe—Nova.
It was short, simply asking about the suit she sent. Just a simple text, nothing special, but it was her. Her words. Her attention. My pulse kicked hard against my chest.
My eyes drifted to the bed where the suit laid stretched out like a promise, sharp, tailored, and expensive as hell. A piece of her world sent straight into mine.
I told myself I should ignore it. Hell, a part of me wanted to rip it in half, to tear the damn thing apart and send it back. I needed to prove that she didn’t have any kind of pull over me. She was a criminal, the enemy, and my mission. She was everything I was supposed to destroy.
But the thought of her eyes sliding over me while I wore her gift made something inside me purr.
I could almost see it, those cool, assessing eyes flicking down my chest, the corner of her mouth curving in that quiet, dangerous satisfaction.
The idea of her gaze lingering on me, of wanting me, hit harder than I wanted to admit.
Why the fuck did I want that? Why did I care what she thought?
Yet, I found myself moving before I could stop. Standing. Picking up the hanger. Holding the suit against me like a fool. I snapped a picture and sent it off, fingers hovering over the screen even though my brain screamed don’t.
Too late.
Her reply came fast. A smiling emoji, then a flushed, hot-faced one. My lips twitched before I could stop them.
A gangster, a goddamn crime boss, was texting me smiley faces.
It should’ve been ridiculous. Instead, it made my chest feel tight, and the room got hot.
By the time I’d forced myself into the suit, I felt like someone else, someone sleeker, more dangerous—her world’s version of me. The fabric clung perfectly, moving over my body like magic. I caught my reflection in the mirror and hesitated.
I looked like her type. The realization shot spikes of thrill through me even as I told myself it shouldn’t.
When I stepped outside, a black car was idling at the curb. Of course, she’d send one. Of course, she’d orchestrate every detail.
The door swung open, and my pulse jumped. Did she come to pick me up? Was that why she wanted to see me in my suit?
When a head of blond hair popped out instead of a mane of white, my stomach dropped, and I scowled.
“Hey, man!” Benson, the vampire who fought Nova before me, beamed, waving his arms like I couldn’t fucking see him. “Isn’t the boss great? She sent us this sick ride!”
My lip curled before I could hide it, a low growl catching in my throat. A stupid sting of disappointment twisted in my gut. What the hell was wrong with me? Why did I care that it wasn’t her?
Because a part of me had pictured it. Her smirk. The way her natural perfume flooded the space around me. Her thigh brushing mine as she told me what to do with that voice that could cut and caress in the same breath.
Forcing that image away, I climbed in, sliding to the far edge of the seat to put as much distance as possible between me and the idiot with me.
It only took seconds for me to realize he talked way too much for my liking, so I tried to tune him out.
He kept yapping about the fight, about how he learned a lot by being “smacked around” by the boss, how it was “worth it” since he got tickets to the fight.
I nodded occasionally, just to make sure he didn't try to talk to me even more.
Under the chatter, my thoughts spiraled. The wolf inside me prowled restlessly, low and hungry. It wanted to see her. To smell her. To remind her who he was.
I clenched my jaw, running the Miranda rights in my head just to remind me that I had a human side, one that didn't believe in mates. He growled at me in my head, and I recited the words louder.
This mental game went on and on as we went deeper and deeper into the woods until the trees broke.
As though it had appeared with magic, a mega mansion was suddenly there, like it had grown from the woods themselves.
Massive, secluded, it settled into the side of the mountain like it had always been there.
It was the kind of place power liked to hide.
It should’ve set off alarms. It should’ve made my stomach twist with dread.
Instead, the first question that popped into my head was what did she look like tonight? Fucking pitiful.
We rolled up a long, guarded drive, tailing a convoy of glossy foreign cars until the red carpet unfurled at the foot of the stairs.
She stood at the top like a carved promise.
Golden caramel skin, hair shining like she was a star plucked from the sky, eyes the color of a slow-burn sunset.
The smoky orange dress clung to her in all the right places, the fabric sliding over hips and chest, making every man jealous he wasn't that scrap of fabric.
Something inside me snapped the moment I saw her.
I didn’t remember stepping from the car or climbing the steps; my world narrowed to the way light pooled in the hollows of her throat, making my bones shake.
When those eyes latched onto mine, the rest of the world blurred and fell away until all that remained was the heat of her gaze.
A shadow folded into my periphery—Zeth—coiled and dangerous, his face full of sharpened patience. He didn’t blink; he watched me the way hunters watch prey: with purpose. Like he knew everything and was waiting for his moment to strike.
He was close enough to press his hand around her waist, fingers digging into her side like he owned that spot. The motion made the beast in my chest let out a low, ragged sound in my head that vibrated across my sternum. My muscles so tense they were about to snap.
Zeth whispered in her ear, pointing at someone below. Nova smiled at me, a small, casual curl of her lips, before she turned away, but Zeth’s fingers stayed as he stared me down.
The beast wanted blood. My hands itched to close around his throat. Not to kill, no, that would be tidy, almost merciful, but to make him understand with bone-aching pain that I belonged at her side.
“Hey, Nick.” She twisted out of his grip and took a few steps forward then stopped short. Her eyes scanned our surroundings as she held herself in place, then looked me up and down. “Looks like the suit was the right size.”
Why did she stop? Why did it irritate me that she looked around first? My neck grew tight as I gave her a strained smile.
“Yeah. You have good taste.”
She stared at me for a beat longer until Benson slid up beside me, a ball of excitement. “Thank you so much, Boss! I'm so excited for the fight. Thanks for beating me up!”
A slow, small grin crept up her face, more calculating than an actual smile, and she nodded. “Your seats are behind us. Make sure to train hard, and maybe next time you'll be in the front row or, hell, maybe up on that stage.”
Benson's eyes went wide, like his head was about to explode, and, for the first time since I’d seen him, he was speechless. The grin on his face said she was his goddess and he would follow whatever she told him.
Rage flared, hot and ridiculous. My gums pricked as my fangs begged to break free.
To tear his head clean off for smiling, for breathing in her space, for looking in her direction.
It was then that I realized the brutal violence that swirled inside me, aiming at Benson, was wholly different from the feelings I felt around Zeth. Why?
I’d been around her and other men before, hell, she worked mainly with other men. Yet, here, the simple tilt of Benson’s mouth, flashing his fangs at her, made me imagine his blood slicking the carpet. I didn't like him even looking at what was mine.
It felt wrong, animalistic, and utterly inevitable.
Mate. That damn word threaded through me again with the pulsing certainty of a heartbeat. The wolf snarled his approval at the idea of claiming, of marking. The human part of me flinched at the possessiveness, at how easily those thoughts and feelings came to me.
A gush of air swirled around me as a presence zipped next to her, and, in a flash, I was looking at that turned vampire from the woods. Conrad, I thought his name was?
He bowed before her, her hand in his, as his lips caressed her right hand.
My jaw tightened so hard the tendon in my neck jumped. Images of me shoving him down the stairs while listening to him scramble almost had me laughing out loud, but then the beast inside me called out, He mate, too.
My body stilled. What the fuck does that mean?
I could feel something inside of me unraveling, but I knew this was not the moment to let that happen. Tapping into my training, I focused on things that I knew for sure.
My badge number. The oath I took when I started on the force.
When I was finally out of that freak-out mode, I took a breath and reminded myself that this was only a job and not to get caught up. My heart thumped loudly, but it was in two simultaneous rhythms. One was slow and legal, by the book, while the other wanted to break out into war.
How many goddamn mates does this woman have? A small fact from the files I had at home popped up in my head, and I recalled her mother having five mates. I cracked my neck at the thought.
“You're a vision, Miss Rossey. Absolutely good enough to eat.” Conrad's words made that urge to punch him in his smug mouth even harder to resist.
A soft giggle leaked out from her. Her eyes fluttered and breath hitched before she calmly said, “Thank you. You don't look so bad yourself.” The sound tore something inside me. That was what she was supposed to say to me!
A copper taste filled the back of my throat as my brain and soul fought for who was in charge of my body.
You’re a cop, the human part scolded. You’re undercover. Keep the job clean.
The wolf in my head snorted, a mocking sound that set me off even more. She laughed... not for you.
Shut the fuck up, you fucking dick!
When I looked up, I could see I was not the only one having a problem with this damn vampire.
Zeth’s face mirrored mine, and it made me feel marginally better. Tension in his shoulders, jaw tight behind manners he didn't want to have, a rage that was barely kept in check. The solace I found in that was shameful. Being a criminal’s ally in fury felt like betrayal and relief all at once.
Suddenly, Nova’s expression slid into business mode, cool and lethal. “We have things to talk about, don't we? Let's head inside.”
Conrad smiled and offered his arm. She took it, her boss mask fully in place like armor. Benson and I fell in step behind, while Zeth claimed her other side, scowling like he would gut the next person who dared breathe too close to her.
As we moved, my mind kept circling back to the strangeness of it.
How quickly my protectiveness had become possessiveness, how easily the thought of hurting some nobody had calmed the thunder in my ribs.
Jealousy, I realized with ugly clarity, wasn’t just a human ache.
It was even more heightened, more dangerous, more powerful in this supe body I now possessed, and that frightened me.
What if I lost control?
I puffed out an annoyed breath. All of these people were dangerous, each of them hiding their own beast beneath their skin.
Tonight, the air tasted like power, perfume, and danger, and I was going to be right at the center of it, just like I needed to be.