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If he hadn’t known Skye was his mate before, he sure did now. Her scent had driven him crazy. Hell, he’d almost kissed her. That would have probably landed him on his ass after she punched him. He yanked open his dresser drawer and stared at the clothes. What was he supposed to do with this...this...goddamn fated-mate fucking bullshit?
And why Skye? Of all the people in the world, why did it have to be the one woman he wanted to smother with a pillow—or did he? Well, he used to. Now he wanted to spread her out on a bed and explore every inch of his mate’s body.
“Gah!” He slammed the drawer. “What is wrong with you?”
“Is that a rhetorical question?” Skye asked from the doorway.
She leaned one shoulder on the doorframe, crossed her arms over her chest, and gave him a taunting smile that he wanted to both slap and kiss off her face. Her blue eyes sparkled with mischief, which pushed his buttons, but if he let her goading get to him, no telling what he’d say.
“Everything is rhetorical where you’re concerned.” He tossed two sets of clothes at her. “Go give these to the rednecks.”
She caught them but didn’t leave. Her gaze leveled on him, assessing. He could see the wheels turning in her head.
Don’t say anything. Don’t say anything.
“What’s going on with you?”
Damnit, why couldn’t she just keep her piehole shut? “Nothing,” he snapped.
“Yes, there is.” She stepped into the room. He took a step back. “You’re not your usual annoying self.” She waved a hand in the air. “I mean, you’re still a total dick, but not so much.” Another step brought her and her scent closer. “What gives?”
Wild roses teased his nose, sparking his desire again. If this was what finding your mate felt like, he didn’t know how shifters weren’t banging every second of the day.
A growl rumbled from him as he stepped into her space and grabbed her upper arms. “You want to know what’s going on?” He jerked her against him. Her eyes rounded, and she gasped, but she didn’t pull away. “It’s become apparently clear that you’re my mate.”
A few agonizing seconds passed as she processed what he’d said. “No, I’m not,” she whispered.
“Yes...you are.” Leaning in, he inhaled. “Wild roses and sunshine, that’s what I smell when I’m with you. It’s driving me crazy.” He pulled back and locked eyes with her. “You’re driving me crazy. All I want to do is bury myself in you.” He released her and stepped back. “But I’m not going to. Do you know why?” Before she could reply, he cut her off. “Because all it would be is a lot of growling, scratching, and hate fucking.”
That should do it. He braced himself for her impending tirade. She did not disappoint.
Her gaze narrowed, her lips pulling into a feral smile. Inhaling, her spine stiffened. “First off, jackass, I’m not your mate. Us—together? No way in hell. Secondly, the reason you’re not going to get up in my sweet junk isn’t because you don’t want to. It’s because I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last man on earth. I’d rather pleasure myself with broken glass before I let you touch me.” She jabbed a finger at him. “Oh, and about that, don’t touch me anymore.”
With that, she turned and stomped out of the room. Good, let her be pissed. Maybe she’d keep her distance, and they’d get through the storm without killing each other—or worse—coupling.
North blew out a breath and rubbed his hands over his buzzed head. How could this have happened? Why would this have happened? People should at least like each other if they’re mated—shouldn’t they? Not for the first time, he wished Banks was there. His logically calm take on the circumstances would be a big help right now. As it were, he had a hateful mate, a lodge full of vampires and redneck shifters, and a thimbleful of patience. The situation was beyond messed up, and he wondered who would break him first.
By the time he reached the dining room, Tobias and Samuel were fully dressed. A small victory, but he’d take it. Skye stood across the room next to the window and way too close to Oliver. Though they weren’t talking, Oliver eyed her like a thirsty man stared at a tall glass of water. Deep inside, North’s raven spread his wings, bringing the bird’s awareness close to the surface. The animal’s attention zeroed in on the vampire, assessing.
In shifted form, he might not have the strength of a wolf, but ravens were clever, cunning, and picked up subtle details others missed. Sometimes he could connect psychically with someone, even humans. Releasing a bit of the restraint he had on his raven, he allowed the bird to sift through the room. After drifting over a person, it sent impressions back to North. Sabina and Aisling seemed genuinely friendly. Vladimir was definitely one to watch out for. Priscilla felt like a warm hug. Tobias was dangerous but not a threat. Samuel was a different story. A lot of rage and unpredictability registered back from the eagle shifter. Then there was Oliver. Nothing. No impression. No sense of what the vampire was about.
North’s raven squawked, clearly not liking its inability to read him. As if sensing that he was being analyzed, the vampire turned and looked at North. The corner of his mouth quirked up, his piercing stare feeling like it burrowed through North’s soul to his raven. The bird gurgled with what felt like contentment, but that was impossible. Vampires couldn’t compulse a shifter’s spirit animal...could they? He’d never heard of it, but he wasn’t taking any chances.
North slammed down his mental barriers, blocking out Oliver. Fucking vampires. Now he remembered why he hated them. Always trying to prove they were superior, no matter whose personal space they violated. This night sucked such big moose balls.
“Anybody hungry?” he asked, looking for something to occupy his time.
“I could eat,” Tobias said.
“Me too,” Samuel added, still glaring at the vampires.
“Food sounds great,” Priscilla said, giving him a warm smile. “I’ll help you.”
North’s gaze cut to Skye and he caught a quick glimpse of her displeasure before she masked it with a smile. “You’re company,” she said, pushing away from the window. “I’ll help. You relax and warm up.”
“Really, I don’t mind.”
“Nope.” Skye waved away Priscilla’s insistence and strode across the room. “What kind of hostess would I be if I let you do all the work?”
“Actually, you’re not the hostess,” North said as she swept past him. He turned and followed her into the kitchen. “Remember? My lodge.”
She spun on him. “How could I forget? You remind me every chance you get.”
A pang of guilt jabbed at him. Maybe he had been a little bit of a dick about winning the bid. Then again, she was never nice, never said anything sweet. At the very least, she could say something that didn’t have a barbed to it.
She yanked open the cabinet and pulled out a loaf of bread, dropping it onto the counter. Next came her attack on the refrigerator. With more force than necessary, she hauled open the refrigerator door, sending all the bottles rattling, and plucked condiments from the shelf. Those got deposited beside the loaf of bread before she turned to him. “Lunchmeat?”
He tipped his head toward the chest freezer in the corner of the kitchen. “In the freezer.”
With a little huff, she stomped over to it and lifted the lid. North watched her rummage around inside. Was she mad at him or jealous of Priscilla? The fact that they were mated had to be tripping her up too. Even in her agitated state, a condition he normally enjoyed, he found himself wanting to soothe her anger. Instead of poking the wolf, he wanted to caress and soothe it. This newfound concern sucked.
“Move.” He nudged her out of the way. “You’re messing up my system.”
Though she glared at him, she didn’t argue and stepped back. It took a minute to find the vacuum sealed pack of ham, and deciding they’d be eating more than one meal, he also removed an economy size bag of hotdogs and buns. After setting the hotdogs and buns in the sink to thaw, he snipped a small opening in the package of ham and tossed it in the microwave to defrost.
The machine flared to life for approximately four seconds before all the power in the lodge shut down. “Shit!”
“What happened?” Skye asked.
“Generators probably.” He thought banks had fix them, but maybe he’d overloaded it somehow. “I’ll go check them out. It shouldn’t take long.”
“Be careful.”
He stopped and arched an eyebrow at her. “Is that concern?”
“Yeah.” She propped her fist on her hip. “I don’t want to be left alone with this crowd for too long.”
“So, the lesser of two evils?”
The hint of a smile played at her lips. “Something like that.”
It wasn’t much, but he’d take it. Right now, any peace between them was a welcome reprieve. When he entered the dining room, all eyes turned toward him. As shifters and vampires, they could see in the dark, but like Skye had said, this wasn’t a crowd he wanted to keep in the dark.
“What’s going on?” Tobias asked.
“Generators.” He tugged on his coat and hat. “Shouldn’t take me long to fix. Hopefully, it just ran out of gas.”
“Do you need help?” Oliver asked.
Not looking at the vampire, North zipped up his coat and pulled on his gloves. “No, but thanks. I got this.”
After grabbing the flashlight off the ledge, he yanked open the front door and stepped into the swirling storm. The wind bit his skin, the blowing snow making it nearly impossible to see more than a few feet in front of him. He’d heard of people in the old days tying a rope from the house to the barn so they didn’t get disoriented, lose their way, and freeze to death. Being a shifter gave him a great sense of direction, and despite the blinding conditions, he doubted he’d get lost.
Following the edge of the building, he battled his way toward the outbuilding at the back of the lodge. Because the generators were loud and smelled like diesel fuel, they kept them at a good distance from the main living area. At times like this, the trials of living in remote Alaska became very clear.
He tugged on the door, but the wind slammed it shut again. Bracing his foot against the front wall of the building, North heaved backward, gaining enough of an opening to slip inside. Again, the Arctic wind blasted against the door. The wood bashed the doorframe but remained intact. He latched it and turned to survey the room. The smell of fuel oil assaulted his extremely sensitive nose. The odor of diesel was usually strong...but not that strong.
Instead of the roar of the generator motor, an eerie silence filled the interior. A prickle of unease skittered across his skin, and his raven ruffled in response. Something more than the silent generator felt off. He stomped on the small pile of snow that had seeped under the door and strode to the machine. With a quick flick, he turned on the flashlight and zeroed in on the fuel tank. After removing the cap, he peered in. Empty. His brow furrowed. He’d filled it this morning. How could all the diesel be gone? Swinging around, he swept the flashlight beam up to the junction box, but the connections seemed fine. He refocused the light on the generator and walked around to the other side.
“What the...?”
A long gash ran diagonally across the fuel line, and drops of diesel dripped into a large puddle under the generator. He squatted, examining the sabotaged hose. Somebody had cut it. Instantly, his mind jumped to Tobias and Samuel, then shifted to Priscilla. She’d been outside the longest and had been last to enter the lodge. But he found it hard to believe she would have cut the line. Then again, Tobias and Samuel were giant tools and might have coerced her into it. There was also the room full of vampires. Any of them could have cut the line before entering, let the fuel drip just waiting for the generator to quit. He stood. But why? It didn’t make sense.
The answer to that question would have to wait. First, he needed to fix the fuel line and get the generator running again or they were going to be in for one very cold and dark night.
As he stepped from behind the generator, pain exploded in his head, dropping him to his knees. Before he could turn, somebody grabbed him from behind and wrenched his head backward. Their hold tightened, cutting off his air. Another eruption of agony surged through his neck. His mind screamed to fight, but the punishing grip was impossible to break. A gray veil seeped around the edges of his vision as fiery pain burned across his neck. His body sagged forward. As oblivion overtook him, he sent a desperate mental SOS to Skye. Hopefully, their connection had formed enough for her to hear him.
Then—the world went black.