The Fake Mate

There’s a small crowd around the nurses’ station, and even though I can’t see her, I know Mackenzie is here even before I begin to push through the small gathering of people. I can hear a male voice that sounds tight and strained, one that is asking another person if they can hear him, if they’re okay.

But it is only when I can see her—see her small body curled in on itself with flushed skin and damp hair clinging to her temples—that I really start to lose it.

Because someone is touching her. Another wolf who looks up at me with a hardness to his eyes that I can somehow sense is bordering on challenge, and with the way red flashes in my vision, it takes me a second longer than it should to recognize Mackenzie’s nurse friend from yesterday hovering near her panting form, looking at me like he wishes I were anywhere else.

Mine. Omega. Mine.

I grind my teeth together and clench my fists, a brief urge to tear him away from her, one that is hard to ignore, but somehow I manage to keep it contained. “I need everyone to back away from my mate now, please,” I ask as evenly as I can. Even to my own ears it sounds rough. It takes every shred of my control to keep from tearing the others from her physically. “I’ve got her.”

Liam’s fingers linger at her arm for almost longer than my frazzled senses can stand, but when I take another step to close the distance between us, I notice his hand curling from her forearm and pulling away before he slowly moves to stand.

“She’s going into heat,” he says in a hard tone.

My nostrils flare, the evidence of this practically burrowing itself into my brain. “Yes. Which is why I am taking her home. But I need everyone to give us some space.”

Mine. Omega. Mine.

“Why would you let her leave home this morning?”

My jaw clenches so hard it might crack my teeth if I keep it up. His scent is agitated, and sampling it mixed in with Mackenzie’s is making my stomach turn. Scenting her with anyone else feels completely wrong. Especially now. “She wasn’t showing signs this morning.”

And it’s true, she hadn’t—but that knowledge doesn’t stop me from wanting to kick my own ass for possibly being even a little at fault. For letting anyone else see her like this. The more primal part of my brain is actively berating me because I should be the only one to see her like this, it roars.

“Well she sure as hell is now,” Liam grinds out. “She’s burning up. She needs—”

“I know exactly what she needs,” I hiss. “Thank you.”

I ignore him then, moving to Mackenzie’s side and pushing down the territorial rumbling in my chest when I notice her friend—Parker, I think she said his name was—is still touching her. The fact that I can tell he is human and therefore can’t possibly scent her like this is the only thing keeping me in check. It’s the only thing keeping me from ripping his hand from her body.

Parker frowns at me, still clutching Mackenzie’s shoulders. “She collapsed. She was complaining of a headache, and then she started looking pale, and she just . . .” He looks down at her with concern. “She really is burning up.”

I nod absently, not bothering to look at him. I can’t tear my eyes from Mackenzie now. “I’ve got her,” I murmur. “I’m going to take her home.”

Parker’s hand pushes between us just as I reach for her, his expression hard and showing not even an ounce of fear at getting between an alpha and an omega approaching her heat. Actually, he almost looks like he might attempt to kick my ass if I keep going. The shred of sanity I’m clinging to reminds me it would be bad to make an enemy of Mackenzie’s best friend.

“We both know why I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Parker says, low enough for only me to hear. “I don’t know if I should just let you—”

“Noah?”

Mackenzie surprises us both when she pushes up from the floor, tearing herself out of Parker’s grip and winding her arms around my neck and pulling herself closer so she can nuzzle at the front of my shirt. I can feel her inhale, hear her soft sigh after.

“Noah,” she breathes again, almost like a coo. Like she’s relieved.

I bring my arms around her. “I’m here.”

“Hurts,” she groans quietly.

“I know,” I soothe. “I’ve got you.”

She pulls her head back to blink at me, turning her neck slightly to take in the small crowd. “Can we go? I don’t . . .” Her fingers clutch at my shirt tighter. “Take me home.”

“Of course.” She doesn’t protest in the slightest when I pull her into my arms before standing, holding her against my chest to cradle her there. “I’ll take you home.” I look at Parker then, noticing he still looks more than wary of me. I step closer, lowering my voice. “I would never do anything she doesn’t want, but right now, my scent can at the very least keep her calm. Let me take care of her. If all she wants is to be near me, then that’s as far as it will go. You have my word on that. All right?”

He still looks unsure when I pull away, looking from me to Mackenzie and back again, finally nodding reluctantly. “I’m going to fucking hold you to that, Taylor.”

I’m already turning away from him before he’s even finished speaking, pushing through the crowd with Mackenzie in my arms even as she burrows closer against me, her face tucking into the crook of my neck as her breath puffs against my skin.

“Don’t let go,” she murmurs, sounding pained and tired.

I don’t know if she hears me answer—Never—since she dozes off then, but it’s probably for the best, given that I have no idea why I even said it.



* * *





?I’ve been watching her sleep for more than an hour.

On any other occasion, I might worry that I was being a total creep, and there’s still a high possibility that I could be—but I don’t think I can physically take my eyes off her.

She’d woken only for a moment when I laid her in my bed after I had gotten her back to my place, only long enough to bury herself in my sheets and wildly pull the blankets around her. Almost like she’s nesting. Every so often she makes a tiny, pained sound in her sleep, and each one tugs at something inside of me that I don’t recognize. Each one pokes at that barely checked mania that seems to seep out of me whenever I’m near her. And those feelings are a thousand times worse now, with her scent filling my bedroom and most likely permeating the walls to the point that it might never fade. I can’t even find it in me to mind, honestly.

Admittedly, this isn’t the first time I’ve experienced this. I’m seasoned enough that I’ve helped more than one shifter woman I’ve dated through her heat in the last decade or so—but I have never felt something as blinding as what I’m feeling sitting only a foot from the tiny omega in my bed whose scent threatens to drive me insane. What I’m feeling now seems bigger, more consuming, even. What I’m feeling now makes it hard to keep still. Almost like every fiber of my being is protesting that it isn’t wrapped up in her.

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