He slumped into the nearest chair, running his hands through his hair in frustration. Hedidn’tthink so little of Matt. At least, he hadn’t, not until Matt had broken his trust and grabbed him. Being grabbed like that, without warning—yeah, that had always been the first step to worse.
But he’d done it to stop Jesse being a reckless asshole who’d have gone out there and gotten himself killed, a small and very unwelcome part of his brain told him. And something else clicked into place. Matt didn’t protect just because he was an alpha, because it was his job. He protected fiercely, with everything he was. Like a man trying to make up for something, for a failure he couldn’t forgive himself for. And if he’d overstepped with Jesse, maybe that was why.
As he replayed their conversation, he dug the tips of his fingers into his scalp, needing the pressure to keep himself from flying apart. He’d been so furious over Matt grabbing him, he’d skipped right over what Matt hadsaid—they weremates.
It was bullshit. Must be. Mates were just some old wives’ tale, a way to strip away choice, control. Jesse didn’t buy into that crap. Urban had just been trying anything to get him to obey.
But the thought didn’t sit right. Matt wasn’t a liar.
So maybe Matt actually believed it, but that didn’t make it true. If nothing else, Jesse was supposed to believe fate had paired him with a bossy, snarky alpha? Yeah, right. There was no universe in whichthatcould ever work.
A bossy, snarky alpha who, for all his faults, was out there protecting him. Jesse’s stomach tightened. He still didn’t know exactly who was after him or why. Maybe no one was. But Matt thought the threat was real. So did Karl.
Jesse needed to prepare for what might be coming. He’d need to be ready to fight or to run. And he’d make damn sure Tristan was ready, too.
* * *
Jesse prowled the silent house all night. Tristan had gone to bed around midnight, pale and anxious but not fighting Jesse’s suggestion. He promised to wake Tristan later so he could take his turn on watch, but when it came to it, he didn’t. Jesse knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep, and all that would happen would be both of them feeling exhausted come morning.
The house creaked sometimes, and each time it did, Jesse’s heart stuttered. Worst of it was, he didn’t know what was going on out there. He’d peered out through the windows, seeing the moonlight-washed yard, but there was no sign of anything, save a few raccoons on a midnight amble.
He froze at the sound of something on the roof, then forced himself to relax when he realized it was the pitter-patter of tiny feet. A rat, maybe. Definitely not a wolf.
Everything was gray in the half-light before dawn when Jesse next stared out the kitchen window. Surely, with the coming of the sun, the pack would return to the house. Some of them, at least.Matt,at least.
Surely Matt wouldn’t leave him here alone.
He was aware of the movement before he could make out exactly what he was seeing in the dim light. When he saw the big wolf heading toward the house, his breath left him as if he’d been punched, his heart slamming against his ribs. He knew it was Matt, felt it in a place too deep for words.
God alive, Matt as a wolf was beautiful. He was the most beautiful thing Jesse had ever seen. He was big, rangy, and powerfully muscled, with his sleek, light-colored coat looking almost blond.
Something tugged sharply inside Jesse, making his knees weak. He pressed a hand to the counter, suddenly dizzy.
No.
But there it was, bright and sharp and undeniable. He wanted to be out there, running beside his mate under the moon.
No, goddammitno.
He clutched the edge of the counter like it could anchor him, keep him upright as the world came apart around him. Because Matt was his mate. Goddamn it, Matt was hismate.
Jesse turned away and slid to the floor, his back against the cabinets. His breath came fast, too shallow to fill his lungs. The room spun wildly, as his heart hammered. It was like something inside him had broken loose, huge and terrifying, too big to fit back inside his chest.
It wasn’t just about Matt. It was about everything Jesse had refused to believe in. Everything he’d mocked or dismissed or shoved aside because he couldn’t afford to want it. Couldn’t afford toneedit.
But it was real. It wasreal. He’d been alone so long. Always. And that was the way he liked it, or so he’d convinced himself. Now, suddenly, everything had changed and he knew that if he left here tomorrow, there’d always be a part of him he’d left behind. Matt was Jesse’s. Had always been, somehow, even before Jesse had known it. Just as Jesse was his.
His breath was coming in sharp, painful pants, and he had to do that breathing exercise he’d taught Tristan, because panic got in the way of everything, even the ability to fight. But goddamn it, Jesse Turner didn’t belong to anyone.
Just like Matt Urban didn’t, he realized. Neither of themownedone another. They just belonged together. And that was all there was to it.
Jesse’s chest ached with something he wasn’t ready to name, but it ran deep. Matt was beautiful. Not only to look at but in the way he was steady in a world that had always kept Jesse off-balance. Even when Jesse pushed him, Matt was patient in ways he’d never known anyone to be. He was the best man Jesse had ever met, and he was everything Jesse had never let himself want.
He let out a slow, shaky breath and dragged his hand through his hair. What the hell was he supposed to do with a truth he couldn’t outrun?
Chapter Twenty-two
MATT
