Forbidden Mate (4 page)

Marco picked up the small silver locket from his
dresser top. He examined its imperfections in the beams of light coming from
the small window. It had been hers. Besides his memories, it was the only item
left to remind him she existed at all. He clenched the locket in his fist when
he realized it was getting more and more difficult to conjure up her image in
his head. Did he even remember the exact shade of her hair or the sound of her
laughter?

Marco clamped his jaw tight as an unwelcome surge of
emotion welled up inside him. He had to run. His only therapy was venting his
frustration through his wolf.

After deciding he’d head out for a couple hours to
clear his head, he rejoined Targus on the porch. “I’ll be back before sunrise,”
he said plainly.

“I’ll come with you.”

“No, I need to be alone.”

Targus frowned and turned away from him, his arms
crossed over his chest. “This is getting old. You act like your life is already
over.”

“Maybe it is.”

He didn’t have the strength to argue. Not today. It
was growing increasingly more difficult to put on his happy face—especially
with the full moon fast approaching.

 
Marco head
out the side door of the cabin and shifted into his wolf. He shook out his dark
gray fur, savoring the way his feral side dulled his human emotions. If it
wasn’t for Targus, he’d probably never return to civilization, choosing to live
like an animal rather than a man. It would be so much easier rather than facing
the pain of a past he couldn’t redo.

He pawed the earth and then bounded through the
narrow paths between trees. The forest was thick and untouched by humans. It
was also home. He knew every leaf, every unruly root, and every valley for
miles. He didn’t stop for hours. As he ran, his heart raced, adrenaline rushing
through his veins. He loved connecting with his wolf—just his fur and the
nature around him.

When he came to the southern edge of the forest, the
natural darkness was cast out by the lights from the town. He stopped and
watched, not moving a muscle. He was an outsider. In the shadows of the tree
line, not even another shifter would be able to spot him. Marco listened to the
drone of music from the bar, pet dogs barking, and light footsteps coming
toward him.

He crouched lower, his eyes riveted on the source of
the steps. It was a lone female rushing along the barren dirt road. Fear clung
to her like a cheap perfume. The signature was impossible to miss and also
irresistible to his wolf. He had the urge to attack, but kept himself under
control.

As she passed in front of him, she wasn’t the wiser
of his presence in the shadows. Her scent was a subtle vanilla, instantly
arousing his beast. He wanted her.

Marco roared as a war played inside him.
You have no right to desire another woman!
 
The female on the street gasped before she
began to run in the direction of the darkened buildings. It wasn’t his
intention to scare her. He really only wanted to punish himself for letting his
mate die and continually trying to move forward without her. He didn’t deserve
a second chance.

Marco’s sanity was teetering on a fine edge and he
knew it. He decided he’d step out of character for tonight and hit the local
bar. Normally he liked to avoid other shifters and keep to his remote hideaway
in the woods. But he needed something—maybe a miracle. Since that was unlikely,
he’d try to drown out his sorrows in cheap liquor. It worked for countless
other males in their remote homeland, maybe it would for him too.

Marco managed to scrounge up a pair of worn jeans
and T-shirt before entering the only place left open at the late hour. He
needed to wipe the scent of that female from his memory because he couldn’t
stop obsessing. This was the first time in nearly a decade he couldn’t control
his wolf.

“Can I help you?” asked the barmaid after he sat on
a wooden stool.
 

So this was the source of the noise he could hear
from the edge of the forest. He’d always been curious. Marco looked to his
sides, absorbing his surroundings and accessing any threats.

The place didn’t live up to his expectations.

The music was loud on his senses, the place filled
to capacity with overbearing revelers. He wanted to be invisible, but then
again, he doubted any of the drunkards or scantily-clad women noticed he
existed. Maybe this was his answer.

He returned his attention to the barkeep. “Give me
something strong.”

“Need a little liquid courage tonight?”

“Just need to forget.”

“Don’t we all?” The she-wolf set down a row of clean
shot glasses and began to pour. Part of Marco screamed to leave, to not take
the path of deeper self-destruction. But the weak part, the one that barely
held on one day to the next, swallowed the liquor as if it were a saving grace.

He swiveled and scanned the crowd, the booze burning
a path down to his stomach. There were too many unfamiliar faces. Time seemed
to stand still, one minute blending into the next as the last shot began to
filter into his blood.

“I thought humans weren’t allowed in here,” he said.

She shrugged. “These are modern times. It was bound
to happen.” She poured him another round. After wiping up a spill on the
lacquered bar, she continued, “I’ve seen you before.
You and
another wolf.”

“You mean Targus.”

“And you’re both unmated?
Seems
unusual for two quality males.”
She licked her ruby-red lips, but he
wasn’t buying whatever she was offering.

“We’ve both given up on women,” he slurred.

As the effects began to take hold, he smiled lazily.
He wanted to forget as much as he wanted to remember. The women in the bar all
began to look alike, his doubled vision playing tricks with his mind. He
staggered off his stool, bumping into other patrons as he attempted to find the
exit.

“Watch it!” Someone pushed him into another man. He
was tossed about like a pinball until someone finally decided to throw a punch.
Unfortunately it didn’t knock his sense back into him, leaving him more
disoriented and pathetic. The other men in the bar were itching for a fight,
and the alcohol didn’t help the flood of testosterone. It wasn’t going to turn
out well for him.

He did the only thing he could do with his vision,
strength, and common sense at the bottom of a shot glass—he started swinging.

The roar of voices pounded in his head. There was
a frenzy
amongst the bar-goers, all chanting for bloodshed.
Marco was lost. He was sailing along, ignoring the pain, trying to make sense
of the chaos. The vague sting of punches reminded him he wasn’t winning any
battles tonight. He considered shifting, but even in his inebriated state, he
knew better than to shift in a public place. To break such a founding rule
would mean certain outcast or worse.

“Marco!” The familiar voice registered, but he was
too wasted to care. Someone grabbed him sharply by the collar and dragged him
away from the bar and the relentless beating, tossing him onto the dusty
pathway. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

He looked up through one slanted eye, the other
swollen shut. “Nett?”

“Targus!
It’s
Targus, Marco.
For gods’ sake.”
He watched his friend
pace back and forth, the light from the bar windows illuminating his large,
heaving frame.

“Right.
I
knew that.”

“What the fuck are you doing here? What if I hadn’t
shown up? Do you think getting hammered is the answer? You look like a filthy
coyote right now, not a wolf.” Targus massaged both hands behind his neck. “You
used to be so much better than this. Maybe you
are
a lost cause.”

He could feel his friend’s disappointment and
desperation. It wasn’t Marco’s intention to hurt anyone, especially Targus.
He’d really fucked up everything.

Marco pushed up with his arms, but lost all
strength, collapsing back to the dirt. He wanted to stop his friend from
walking away, to demand another chance to prove he was better than this. But it
was too late.

He fell asleep on the dirt floor in front of the bar
like a common drunk. He’d hit rock bottom.

****

Helen was up early, going over all the brochures from
the tour company. They were spread out over the small kitchen table like
wrapping paper. She kept repeating the facts in her head in case any of the
passengers asked her a question on the bus tour. The entire trip was
ridiculous. She never should have agreed to come, not when these people were
paying for an experienced tour guide.

She studied the notes she’d scribbled down about the
town. There was a massive castle as a focal point, but they weren’t allowed to
enter the grounds.
Who lives there?
It
must be some wealthy, upper class family…or possibly royalty. Maybe it was
empty, a landmark of sorts. She didn’t know much about the area or its history,
and nobody seemed willing to tell her anything. The townsfolk were all hush-hush
about everything, and it was started to rouse her suspicions. Hopefully one of
the passengers wouldn’t put her on the spot by asking her about the castle.

Helen sighed and dropped down in her chair. As much
as she should be researching
Chupacabras
, castles,
and haunted forests, she couldn’t stop thinking about the man from last night.
Would she see him again? He was like a fantasy—here one minute, gone the next.
When she first woke up she questioned if the chain of events last night
actually occurred. Her ripped blouse was evidence it wasn’t imagined.

Why had he just ditched her? She’d been ready to
give her body to him without restraint, and he flatly refused. It was for the
best, that she was certain. Helen didn’t recognize the lusty woman from last
night. It couldn’t have been her. She prided herself on living a
conservative—boring—lifestyle. Messing around with gorgeous strangers in the
wilderness at night was on her top ten
list
of no-nos.

There was a sudden knock on her door, giving her a
fright. Before she even stood up to answer it, the bus driver called out that
she had fifteen minutes before they had to board. He hated her. She could feel
the animosity the second she stepped onto the bus yesterday. He was probably
pissed that he had to tow around a replacement guide with no experience. Helen
just kept to herself and tried to make the best of it. Surely she’d survive four
days.

She gathered the most informative brochures into a
neat pile and then tucked them into her oversized purse. Helen glanced out the
window before leaving. It was an overcast day, no comforting rays of sunshine
to perk her up. Everything was a shade of gray. She looked down to the street
below.

That’s when she saw the body.

Helen swung her purse over her shoulder and rushed
out of her hotel room. When she reached the main floor, she shoved open the
front door with exaggerated force. He was only a few feet away from the
entrance, his body
face
down in the dirt. She felt a small
twinge of disappointment when she realized the man wasn’t the one starring in
her new fantasies from yesterday. They looked so much alike at first
glance—tall, built, and littered with tattoos. But this man was a new stranger,
probably homeless or a drunk if he’d slept on the street.

To make sure he was okay, she squatted down on her
heels next to him. She looked side to side, wondering why no one had stopped to
help him by now. The town was small but surely someone would have passed by
since sunrise.

“Hello?” She gave him a slight nudge, surprised by
how firm his muscles were, even when relaxed. The cotton shirt pulled tight
over his shoulders, leaving nothing to her imagination.
Nice.

The stranger lunged out and snagged her wrist in a
too-tight grip. She squealed from the shock and fell on her bottom as she bolted
back. Helen thought he was oblivious to the world, asleep in some drunken
state. He stared at her with unblinking focus, his eyes
glowing
an inhuman yellow, taking her breath away.

“Who are you?” he demanded. The man took in his
surroundings with a look of complete confusion, as if he’d woken up on the
other side of the world. He had a strong jaw covered in a few days’ worth of
stubble. The man definitely worked out, so she doubted he was homeless. Then
why was he asleep on the ground?

“Helen. Helen Cooper.”

“Helen? What are doing here?”

“I–I’m working with the tour bus company.” She
pointed to the bus parked about half a block away. Why was everyone shocked she
was in town? There were other tourists besides her on the tour. “Can I get you
something?”

She was thinking he might be thirsty, but the look
in his eyes was a different kind of hunger. Helen swallowed hard, wanting to
look away but unable to.

He slowly shifted off the ground and rose to his
feet, pulling her up with him. The man was massive when standing. He brushed
some of the dirt from his pants and then ran his hands through his dark, unruly
hair.