Chapter 5 #4
My cheetah’s laugh rippled through my consciousness, a sound of pure feminine amusement. Lie to yourself if you must, she replied. But your body knows the truth. Your scent changes for him alone.
Instinct isn’t destiny, I argued. Biology isn’t fate.
No, my cheetah agreed, suddenly serious. Choice is fate. And you chose wrong years ago when you let him walk away without a fight. When you didn’t chase him down and claim what was ours.
The accusation hit like a physical blow. Had I been wrong? Should I have pursued him, demanded answers, refused to accept his rejection? Or would that have just stripped away the last shreds of my dignity?
We are predators, not prey, my cheetah reminded me. We do not wait to be chosen. We hunt what belongs to us.
And look where that attitude got us, I shot back. Alone. Independent. Successful on our own terms.
Half alive, my cheetah countered sadly. Half complete. Denying the other half of our soul because of pride.
I had no answer for that. No explanation could justify the hollow ache that had lived beneath my ribs for years, the space where something vital should have been.
And damn her, but she was right. The mate bond that I’d spent decades pretending didn’t exist vibrated between us, golden threads of connection visible only to my mind’s eye but as tangible as physical ropes.
His scent filled my nostrils despite the distance I’d put between us, sandalwood and something uniquely him that my body recognized on a cellular level.
The bond between us had always been there, I realized with a jolt of clarity. I hadn’t destroyed it by rejecting him, only buried it beneath layers of anger and pride and protective walls built over years of determined self-reliance.
And now, in the span of a few intense minutes working together to save Logan, those layers had been stripped away, leaving the connection raw and exposed like a live wire. The energy crackling between us was almost visible judging by the knowing looks several shifters in the room were exchanging.
I took a deep breath, forcing my mind to reassert control. This was just biology, I told myself. Just instincts making sure our kind survived. It didn’t mean anything beyond that.
But even as I thought it, my body called me a liar with every accelerated heartbeat, every heated flush of skin, every breath that unconsciously matched his rhythm.
The room had gone completely silent. Every person present had witnessed not just a medical emergency, but an intervention that actually worked. Where minutes before there had been skepticism and hostility, now there were awe and cautious hope.
“This,” Quinn said, gesturing to Logan, “is exactly why Dr. Dhahabu is here. What you just witnessed is breakthrough treatment in action.”
I straightened, meeting evaluating gazes now fixed on me with renewed interest.
“This is only the beginning,” Brody said. “With proper implementation, we can develop sustainable treatments for every unmated male with pre-feral symptoms in the Ridge.”
But something had broken inside me after the intense minutes of forced cooperation. Years of suppressed rage finally found its target… again.
“We?” I asked, the word triggering every abandonment memory I’d ever suppressed. My skin heated with sudden anger.
“You mean me,” I said, my voice razor-sharp with years of carefully honed self-reliance. “I’ve been working alone on this research for years, just like I’ve done everything else alone since I was seventeen.”
The memories crashed over me like a tidal wave.
On my tenth birthday, watching through the window as darkness fell, cake untouched on the table, my father’s promised visit nothing but another broken vow.
My mother retreated into her lab after that, a ghost drifting through our house, present but unseeing.
My fingers curled into fists against my thighs, nails biting half-moons into my palms. The pain anchored me to the present, kept me from drowning in the undertow of remembered abandonment.
“I don’t do we,” I continued, my voice steadier than I felt. “And I especially don’t do we with you.”
Brody’s shoulders tensed, the muscles in his jaw jumping beneath tanned skin. For a moment, something raw and wounded flashed in his eyes before his expression shuttered, closed, controlled and unreadable once more.
“Noted,” he said quietly, his voice carrying that dangerous undertone that sent an unwelcome shiver racing down my spine.
Memories flashed through my mind of the Kenyan savanna, the hot sun beating down as I watched him disappear into the tall grass, taking with him the one connection I’d thought even the universe guaranteed couldn’t be broken.
I’d learned to be my own shelter after that. Built walls so high and thick that nothing could penetrate them. I transformed myself into someone who didn’t need anyone, not colleagues, not friends, and certainly not a mate who decided I wasn’t worth staying for.
I’d earned every degree, published every paper, developed every treatment through sheer force of will and the absolute certainty that I could only count on myself. I’d stopped waiting for anyone to show up, to stay, to choose me.
And now Brody had the audacity to say “we” like the past hadn’t happened. Like he hadn’t been the one to teach me the most devastating lesson of all, that even a fated mate could look at me and decide I wasn’t enough.
The room went dead silent. Tension crackled like static electricity.
Brody’s face tensed, a muscle jumping in his jaw. His left hand trembled visibly before he clenched it into a fist. I caught the flash of gold in his eyes, his wolf pushing forward in response to my rejection.
Meeting attendees glanced from me to Brody.
“Careful, Dr. Dhahabu,” Brody replied. “You’re playing with fire.”
“I learned not to play with anything that cuts and runs,” I replied. “Some lessons stick. Especially when they’re taught by your fated mate.”
Quinn cleared his throat, stepping between us with practiced ease.
“I think we should focus on the breakthrough we just witnessed rather than personal observations,” he said.
The pointed look he gave both of us wasn’t lost on me.
“Dr. Dhahabu has demonstrated that her research works,” Quinn continued.
“The question now is implementation and security. Brody’s tonic shows potential and will be an asset to you, Rozi.
Also, considering recent intelligence about planned activities against you, Brody will also be your security escort during your time in the Ridge. ”
My blood chilled. Not only would my lab be in his Brewstillery, but now he’d be my security escort too? The universe wasn’t just laughing at me; it was doubling over in hysterics.
It didn’t help that I was at a critical impasse without willing test subjects. Being Tabia’s granddaughter created immediate distrust in shifter communities, and most shifters refused to participate in my clinical trials.
“For the benefit of my research and the eighteen males who are experiencing pre-feral symptoms,” I said, “I agree to your terms, Quinn.”
My inner cheetah practically purred with approval. Smart choice. Close to mate. Help mate.
I’m doing this for science and those suffering males, I corrected internally. Not for him.
Whatever story you tell yourself, my cheetah replied with what felt suspiciously like amusement.
“Excellent,” Quinn replied.
“I’ll be waiting outside to drop you off at the B&B,” Brody said, his voice carefully neutral even as his eyes betrayed a storm of emotions. He turned and walked away.