Love at First Mate - Badlands Territory

What am I doing?

This can’t happen. Now that I’ve met her, it only makes things clearer. I’ve not yet claimed her and I already know I’d die if anything ever hurt her. And, what makes it worse is knowing it could be me that does the damage, and that’s not going to happen.

Every cell in my body is screaming to take her, make her mine, but instead raging fear ignites inside of me and I turn on my heel, stomping out the back door, leaving my mate as my grizzly starts to burst through my skin.Chapter 4WynterWhat just happened?

I have whiplash and it feels like I got the breath knocked out of me.

I lean my back against the wall of the store I just leased, keys in my hand, and slide down until my ass hits the floor before resting my forehead on my arms.

When Ragnar had walked in, I thought I was in a dream.

He was so much more amazing up close. Bigger than life. His body was encased in a long sleeve black t-shirt and jeans, with just the right amount of working man wear, not to mention the distinct outline of an enormous cock that had my pussy pulsing. His hands and forearms had those perfect man veins and his jaw had just the right amount of dark stubble.

I imagined what it would feel like against the insides of my thighs.

Jesus, my vagina is still sobbing out his name. Soaking my panties with lust and loss because once again, he hauled ass away from me just as I thought we’d had a breakthrough.

His dark eyes were intense and consuming when he looked at me, freezing me to the floor as he stormed in and set Robert nearly on his ass for touching me. His presence took over the entire space and it feels like he’s still here. Like his dominance and power left their imprint and I get it. Because they sure left their imprint on my exploding ovaries.

What was that?

Why did he have that possessive protectiveness when Robert was around, but then when we were alone, he bolts again?

Heat still rages through me as I think of the territorial look in his eyes.

Why did I feel so safe around him when he’s clearly high on the bad boy spectrum? Will I never learn my lesson?

But, there’s something more. He’s different. I mean, I’ve been around the male species enough to figure out Ragnar, and a lot of the other guys I’ve been around since I moved to the Badlands, they just feel different.

“Hey,” a voice calls, and I hear the door open, jerking my head up to see Josephine smile as she walks in. “Just got off my shift, saw your car still outside. How’d it go?”

Great. Perfect. Then, terrible.

“Fine,” I answer, my voice flat.

“Fine?” She comes closer, looking down at the signed lease sitting on the floor next to me. “You got the space?”

“Yep.”

She squints an eye. “So, what’s wrong? You look like someone just took a tinkle in your Raspberry Lemonade.”

I start to say nothing’s wrong.

I’m just overwhelmed with everything to do from here.

Sad and missing my mom.

Which is all true, but it’s not the truth, so instead of lying, I look up at her soft eyes, see the genuine concern there, and before I know it, I’m vomiting out my life story and telling her about Ragnar and how I don’t understand why he seems so possessive then so revolted.

“Wow.” She bobs her eyebrows, then reaches into her purse and pulls out a silver flask. “I think this conversation calls for something stronger than Raspberry Lemonade.”

She slides down the wall next to me, opens the flask and hands it my way.

I start to refuse, then change my mind. I need something right now, and if it can’t be Ragnar, maybe booze is the next best thing.

I press the opening to my lips and tilt it upward, the stinging, horrifying flavor of cheap whiskey making my throat burn before I hand it back, pressing the back of my hand to my lips, forcing myself to swallow.

“Spitters are quitters.” She raises the flask in toast and I nod and swallow, cringing as she takes a swig, then swipes her lips with her palm when she’s done and shaking her head. “Whooo! That’ll wake ya up in the morning.”

“So,” I start. “Am I, like, going crazy? Ragnar looks at me like I’m dinner, then two seconds later, like I’m rotting fruit.”

She sighs and leans her shoulder into mine. “Men around here—women too, but let’s stick to the men right now—they aren’t like most. Probably not like any you’ve known back where you’re from.”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you ever heard of shifters?” She pulls her lips into a tight smile.

“Yeah, in books. I read a good bit of smutty romance. They’re a staple on my Kindle.”