Despite everything inside of me screaming to, I don’t correct her. It’s better this way, a clean break before she starts expecting anything that I just can’t provide.
We finish our meal in silence, but I’m accustomed to it better than anyone. I was raised out here, just my mother and I for as long as I can remember. She ran from my piece of shit, abusive father when pregnant and went feral, retreating into the deepest parts of the wilds for safety. This place is the only home I’ve ever known and I do everything that I can to limit the need to venture into a town for trade, but it’s inevitable for some things like clothes and certain supplies.
I don’t know how to be around other people, let alone take care of one. Patching her up is one thing, but she’s not made to survive this sort of life.
Tossing another shirt at her so she can layer up, I frown, wishing I had a coat. The cold just doesn’t bother me and it’s never been something I felt the need to waste what little money I have on. Instead of dwelling on the things I can’t change, I toss her my satchel and shift, stretching before dropping to my stomach. Lying flat, I jerk my head with a growl, waiting for her to get the hint and climb on top of me.
She jumps as the noise reverberates around the cave before scrambling up, grabbing some fur as a handhold before releasing it just as quickly, her unease tangible even from here. When I start to stand she loses her reservations though, yipping in surprise and plastering herself against my body, holding on for dear life.
Her weight barely even registers as a pressure against my hulking form as I exit the shelter of the cave and start trudging through the snow. I take my time, because despite my conviction that I’m making the right choice, I haven’t completely hated the change in routine this past week. This woman’s been the most exciting thing to happen to me in years, but she isn’t a pet or a project. She’s a living, breathing person that would grow to resent me before winter’s end.
Gradually, she relaxes as the hours pass, and far too soon a town comes into view. It’s not the one I originally planned on, but somewhere during the silent journey I subconsciously changed course. I’ve only been here a few times over the years, but it stuck in my memory.
It’s primarily run by shifters, though there are a few humans and a mage or two living here as well. I can barely even call it a village, it’s so small, but it’s lovingly maintained and the people I spoke with have always seemed genuinely kind. It made a lasting impression, and after her instantaneous fear when I mentioned her leaving, I’d hazard a guess it wasn’t because she wanted to stay. Hell, the bullet wound in her gut is enough to prove she pissed someone off. The extra trek is worth it if it gives her a chance at a safe life.
When we reach the outskirts, I crouch down so that she can slide off because I’m a damn hypocrite. I call this place a safe haven, yet can’t bring myself to step foot into a single town unless I absolutely have to. Even then, I need to psyche myself up for a while before taking the plunge.
After she’s on her feet I shift back, amused at the way she blushes and looks off to the side. Reaching into the satchel slung across her shoulder, I withdraw the cinched pouch and press it into her hands before taking the bag back.
She furrows her brow before they dart up to her hairline as she opens it. “Holy hell, mountain man, you want me to go buy you some pants? I promise, they don’t cost this much.”
My lip twitches. “Get yourself some shoes and a room to sleep in before you freeze to death.”
Balking at the idea, she strides forward to shove it back into my hands. “I’m not robbing the guy that can’t even afford a pair of underwear. You already saved my life; you don’t owe me anything. I’ll figure shit out like I always do.”
Stepping closer, I curl her hands over the pouch, glaring down at her with a stern look that ends the argument. “Try not to get shot again.”
She bites her bottom lip, but doesn’t protest again. “Do I at least get a name so I can thank you?”
I huff. “Pointless. Not like you’re going to see me again.”
Yet she doesn’t back down, raising a single eyebrow at me in challenge. “Not taking your money unless I can at least say a proper thank you.”
Grinding my teeth, my better judgment ebbs away as she just keeps fucking looking at me with those pretty blue eyes. “Rheyas.”
Her smile lights up her face as she stretches up on her tiptoes, body trembling from the cold since her bare feet are shin deep in snow. “Esmerelda.”
She kisses my cheek with her proclamation and I both love and despise her for it. How the fuck am I supposed to pretend she never existed if she gives me a damn name to attach to her face?
“You’re gonna get sick,” I growl, putting my hand on her back and urging her to start walking. “Start by buying some damn boots and a coat.”
She turns back to look at me, a myriad of emotions on her face before finally steeling with determination and trudging away, pants knotted on the side and drowning in my shirts, completely covered in my scent. Hopefully it’ll offer her a semblance of protection against any other shifters while she looks so damn vulnerable. It won’t last forever, so it’s up to her to get her shit figured out before the gift wears off.
I take one last, long look at my mate before she walks out of my life forever, but it’s for the best. She deserves more than I’m capable of giving her, and all a shifter wants for their elusive, fated mate is to be taken care of and happy. Loved.
I’m just not the man for the job.
Four
Esmerelda
Hair brushed and suited up in more respectable clothes, I bought a new backpack to stow Rheyas’ in. It took all of an hour to explore the expanse of Shady Grove, so it was down to a simple coin flip to decide where to start groveling for work.
Pushing open the door of Happy Endings, I bite back the countless jokes that pop into my mind while glancing around the bakery. Every patron in the place snaps their head up as they notice me, no doubt scenting me asother,but goes back to their food and conversation just as quickly. Nervously, I approach the counter and am more than a little surprised to notice a human woman in her mid-twenties minding it that can’t be more than a year or two older than me.
“May I help you?” she asks, dark brown hair pulled back in a ponytail beneath her hat and green eyes staring at me curiously.
Shifting uncomfortably on my feet under the blatant scrutiny, a pained twinge shoots through my stomach from overdoing it today. I press my palm against the tender spot on my stomach, taking a fortifying breath.
