Series: Unforgiven Country Series by Jenika Snow
Total pages in book: 14
Estimated words: 12868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 64(@200wpm)___ 51(@250wpm)___ 43(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 12868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 64(@200wpm)___ 51(@250wpm)___ 43(@300wpm)
Logically that’s what I know to be true, but in my heart my thoughts are different. In my heart, I truly believe the Fates have blessed me. They have picked out a beautiful mate who is sweet, smart, and brings me peace when we are together. She is also strong in her own right, holding more power than many shifters in my pack, whether they’d ever admit that or not.
Right now, however, having her this close after letting her go once is slowly killing me. I can’t stay away from her, that isn’t possible. Almost of their own volition, my legs begin moving, bringing me closer to her and with each step I take, a sense of rightness pours over me.
“Wyatt.”
She breathes my name and although she has taken great pains to change her outward appearance in the years since she’s been gone, that sweet, lyrical voice is still the same. It wraps around me like a siren’s call, drives deep inside and strokes across my wolf like a calming, healing touch.
“What are you doing here, Kendi?”
That isn’t what I intended to say, and I can tell by the pain that slashes across her face that my gruff words hurt her. My wolf howls with anger and I know my pack brothers hear him, because I can feel their gazes on me.
Fuck.
“No one ever called me Kendi but you,” she whispers, her voice sounding lost, her head bent as she looks at the ground. I want her looking at me, always, want those bright blue eyes trained on me.
She’s still so fucking innocent.
I like that. I like that she didn’t give another man what is rightfully mine. From the looks of her and the aroma of the city on her, I seriously doubted that she would still be a virgin. And the thought of another man touching my mate fueled an anger inside of me so blazing hot, it is a wonder it didn’t scorch the ground around me.
But she’s still pure.
“What are you doing back in town?”
She takes a couple of steps away from me. Immediately, I want to tell her to stop. I want to reach out, grab her and drag her body next to mine. I want to fuck her right here in this damn bar, throw her across a table and claim her from behind, bite down on her shoulder and mark her in the way of my people. I want everyone to know that my mate is home and she is mine.
I do none of those things.
“My grandmother is sick, so I came back to check on her,” she responds.
I frown. I haven’t heard that about her grandmother. Then again, I try not to get around Kendi’s family. Her mother is a toxic piece of shit and her father skipped town years ago—when Kendi was barely able to talk. Her grandmother seems to be a good woman. How she ever gave birth to Kendi’s mother is beyond me.
“When will you be leaving?”
“Are you so anxious to be rid of me?” she asks, hurt laced in every word. “I’m not sure. She’s not doing well and now that Mom has moved to Nevada she’s all alone. I’ve been thinking of staying.”
Fuck.
If Kendi is moving back to Unforgiven for good, I’m screwed. There’s no way I can stay away from her. Heaven help us both, there’s no way my wolf won’t claim her. I won’t be able to rein him in. Shit, I won’t be able to rein myself in.
We’re all screwed.
3
KENDRA
We find ourselves back at Wyatt’s table, a beer for him and a glass of water in front of me. I don’t trust myself to drink alcohol, not when my arousal is already so out of control I’m barely hanging onto my restraint. What I want to do is hurl myself at him, tell him how much I’ve missed him, and make him claim me.
But I do none of that.
As I sit across from Wyatt, I can see how tense he is, as if he’s got something to say. Maybe he wants to tell me to leave, that Unforgiven is no longer my home.
I did leave two years ago, but the truth is I wanted to stay with him, wanted him to claim me, but he never made a move. I just assumed I wasn’t his mate, that he didn’t want me the way I did him.
His jaw is set hard, a muscle working underneath the scruff. His hair is shorter than the last time I saw it, the dark locks maybe a finger length long, haphazardly mussed around his head.
I glance down at his hand, one that’s big and strong, very masculine. His knuckles are white as he grabs his beer bottle. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s just seconds away from crushing it, glass shattering everywhere.