Chapter 4
FOUR
Jameson
Thank God she didn’t run.
The second Fern crosses the threshold on her own, my entire body finally loosens for the first time since she flew into my arms at the gate.
If she’d bolted, I would’ve chased her. No hesitation.
I would’ve caught her, wrestled her back inside, and—if that’s what it took—tied her to my bed until she came to terms with the truth that she’s mine.
That I will protect her. That no one will ever touch her without going through me first.
My bear rumbles in sharp agreement. She chose us, he says. Even afraid, she chose us.
She chose safety, I tell him.
Same thing.
I want to argue that it was more her choosing self-preservation than us, but I can’t fight with him and my fated mate at the same time, so I let it drop.
Fern stands inside the doorway, eyes darting around like she expects someone to jump out at her. The house is quiet and the safest place she could ever be, but she doesn’t know that yet.
“Are you hungry?” I ask gruffly.
She hesitates, then gives a tiny nod.
I move into the kitchen, needing motion, needing something normal to anchor this moment. I throw together sandwiches and heat a can of soup—something fast and warm—while she perches stiffly at the edge of the table like she might launch herself out of a window at any second.
Once the food’s going, I step out onto the back porch and dial patrol.
“Stay sharp tonight,” I tell Abe as soon as he answers. “Cult’s going to realize I intercepted their girl. They might get sloppy.”
A low whistle sounds on the other end. I roll my eyes at Abe’s reaction. He’s my second in command, a wolf shifter. He likes to act as if he doesn’t care, but I know he’s a solid dude and has my back. He would be there for anyone in an emergency, so he’s a great guy to have for Midnight Haven.
“You sure know how to stir the nest, boss.”
“They’re agitated, they make mistakes,” I reply. “We catch more of them that way.”
“We’ll keep eyes everywhere.”
“Good.”
I end the call and glance inside to see Fern helping herself to the food. Fuck, she’s so cute. Her eyes dart out the window as she ladles soup into a bowl before retreating to the table.
I watch as she eats, slowly at first, then faster, as if she hasn’t had a meal in days. Maybe she hasn’t. How long was she held captive in that truck?
I swallow the sharp ache in my throat and call the doctor next.
“Hey, Jameson. I was about to call you. Heard you rescued someone,” Dr. Christian McAdams says.
“Yeah. I’ve got her here with me.”
“Are you bringing her to the cabin? Should I meet you there?”
“No!” I bark, then clear my throat and soften my tone. “She’s mine. She stays here.”
I don’t need to explain what I mean by she’s mine; he knows that I mean she’s my fated mate and doesn’t say anything else.
“Okay. I’ll head to your place. How is she?”
“She’s scraped up, wrists bound too tight,” I tell him. “She needs stitches in one spot, I think.”
“I’ll be there in twenty,” he says without hesitation.
I head back inside to see Fern practically licking her bowl clean.
“Help yourself to more,” I say, waving at the stove.
She nods but makes no move to stand and get more food, so I grab the other sandwich and add the rest of the soup to the other bowl. I carry both over to the table and set them in front of her.
“I’ll make more,” I say when she opens her mouth to protest.
She frowns, but doesn’t argue, and I watch as she digs into the sandwich.
Christian arrives as she finishes eating, carrying his bag. Fern eyes him warily.
My bear paws at me, and I try to calm him.
He’s just here to help.
“Christian, this is Fern. Fern, this is the town doctor. He’s going to bandage your wrists and check out that mark on your forehead,” I explain calmly.
Fern relaxes a bit as Christian cleans and bandages her wrists. I hover as he checks her over, scanning her body. She’s a little banged up, her shoulder bruised from hitting the side of the truck, but her wrists are the worst by far.
My bear paces restlessly beneath my skin while Christian cleans, stitches, and wraps her wounds. Every whimper of pain cuts straight through us.
Ours, he growls. Never again.
“That should do it,” Christian says as he finishes packing up. “Call me if you need anything else or if anything changes. In the meantime, you need to rest.”
“I’ll make sure she does,” I say.
Fern rolls her eyes at me.
Christian turns to me on the porch as I walk him out. “Good luck.”
I glare at him as he smirks. “I don’t need luck. Things are going well here.”
“Sure,” he says as he jogs down the porch steps and over to his car.
I watch him leave and go back inside to my mate. She’s still in the kitchen, and I pause as I take her in. She looks smaller somehow. Bandaged. Exhausted. Still standing because of sheer stubborn will.
“I have questions.”
She glances over at me warily. “About what?”
“Come on.” I head down the hall and into the living room.
It takes a moment, but eventually, Fern appears in the doorway.
I take a seat on the couch, and she makes her way nimbly over to sit across from me in the armchair.
Her eyes dart to the front door, and I know she’s judging the distance, weighing if she could make it outside before I got to her if she had to run.
I don’t tell her that I would be on her before she could even stand from the chair.
“Why don’t you tell me where you’re from?” I ask, deciding to start with something easy.
“Why do you want to know?”
It seems I’m going to have to earn every single piece of information from my mate. “I need to know if someone is going to come looking for you. I need to know so I can keep you safe.”
“That isn’t your responsibility. I can take care of myself,” she argues.
I bite back a growl. “I want to keep you safe.”
That seems to startle her. She stares at me unblinking, and I stare right back. I know she’s not ready for the truth, not all of it. If I tell her I’m a bear shifter and we’re fated mates, she’ll probably laugh in my face or run for the hills. Still, I give her a bit of the truth.
“I need you to be okay. To be safe.”
She licks her lips and takes a deep breath. “Tacoma,” she says finally.
“That’s not too far away. A day’s drive,” I say more to myself than her. “Was it just you and your dad?”
“Yeah, my mom passed away.”
“And you said he sold you?” I ask, my voice harsh. I can’t say it without sounding like a beast. Hell, whenever I think about her dad selling her into a marriage that she didn’t want, I want to rip his head off.
“Yeah,” she whispers.
I clear my throat. “I fucking hate him.”
She blinks at me in surprise. “He’s not my favorite person either.”
“Was he always an asshole?”
She sighs. “No. I remember him being nice when I was young. He started drinking and gambling, and things went downhill from there. I kept hoping he would snap out of it, that it would go back to him being my dad, to him being nice, but…” She trails off.
I swallow hard. “I’m sorry, Fern.”
“Me too,” she says quietly.
“Why stay there with him?” I ask her gently.
“I thought I had more time,” she whispers. “I was saving. I almost got out.”
Rage burns steady and hot in my chest. “You’re out now.”
She swallows. “Yeah, but for how long?”
“Forever. I won’t ever let him or those men take you. I told you I’d keep you safe, and I meant it.”
I push to my feet as she stifles a yawn. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room and get you some clean clothes.”
She follows me as I take her to my room. I turn on the lights and grab a shirt, a pair of boxers, and sweatpants from the closet for her to wear.
“Here you go,” I say, passing her the clothes.
“Thanks.”
“The bathroom is right through there. Help yourself to whatever. We can go into town tomorrow and get you some new things.”
She nods, looking around the room. “Where will you sleep?”
“I’ll take the couch. If you need anything, I’ll be right down the hall.”
She nods again. Always those hesitant nods.
“Let me know if you need anything,” I repeat, backing toward the door.
She watches me go, and I smile as I pull the door partly closed and return to the living room.
I make up the couch, but even lying still in the dark, my bear stays wide awake.
Watching her door.
Guarding what’s ours.