He would never hurt me, no matter how wild he appeared. Wolves cannot even conceive of harming their fated mate.
After years of heartbreak, I’d finally found the one I could trust with every piece of my heart.
My mate.
Then he’d dropped me into the dirt like I was nothing but rubbish. The one person I could trust never to hurt me, physically or emotionally, had just rejected me in front of his whole family. I don’t understand. We’re fated. Meant to be by the gods themselves.
Surely they would not be so cruel as to give me a mate who didn’t want me?
I’d tried to make my peace with it. I must have made a mistake. I must have misinterpreted that moment between us. No matter how real those feelings had seemed, I was clearly the only one who’d felt them. All these years of loneliness and heartbreak must have made me truly desperate for a connection. I’d imagined the whole thing like a pathetic little fool. That was the only conclusion that made any sense.
And now that I’d made my bloody peace with what happened, this bastard has the nerve to taunt me with the possibility that he cares?
I snatch up a stone and hurl it. It passes through the wards, making them ripple, and lands a good several feet beyond Gunnar.
“Bugger off, you bastard!”
For a long moment, Gunnar remains frozen in place. With a low whine, he tucks his ears close to his skull, turns, and gallops away into the woods.
Once he’s out of sight, I exhale the tension from my body, but my heart goes on aching in my chest at his absence. My vision blurs and I thumb away the wetness in my eyes.
We’re nothing to each other.
In a cruel contradiction, my magic hums in my soul, crying out,Mate. Mate. Mate.
“How can I convince Nan to give me that damn ingredient?”
“You’ve asked that two times already!” the witch I’m sitting on snaps. She struggles but can’t seem to break free of the cuffs. Or my weight pressing into her back. “Would you get off me?”
“And sit on this filthy ground? You should ask nicer than that.” I eye the piles of blackened slush with disgust. New York City looks beautiful in the snow when it’s falling, but not so much after.
The air crackles with magic as enforcers bustle about. They’ve put up wards that compel civilians away from the park until the scene can be dealt with. Whenever time travelers, witches, or shifters expose the secrets of the paranormal world, it creates a huge mess that we at the Time Travel Agency need to correct.
We have to close off the scene to avoid witnesses. If there are witnesses, their memories of the incident need to be wiped on the spot. Then, of course, there’s dealing with the perpetrators of these breaches. Sometimes, it’s an honest mistake. Other times, it’s a direct violation of traveler law.
The witch I’m sitting on had very foolishly opened a portal to wherever she was going in the middle of a park. There hadn’t been any witnesses freezing their asses off in the park on a weekday afternoon. Still, violations are a serious offense. Humans can never know of our existence.
“Are you going to be good and let me cuff you now?”
“Fuck you,” she snaps over her shoulder.
“You’re not my type, darling.”
Fortunately, a couple of other enforcers relieve me of her. My job’s officially over. What happens next is above my pay grade. She’ll be detained and punished with a hefty fine. If there’d been witnesses, she’d risk having her magic removed altogether.
All in all, not the worst that could have happened. As I’m leaving the park, I have the suspicion I’ve been in this neighborhood before. Ah, yes! Anders and Jamie work at that adorable little cafe near here. I’ve been craving another cup of their excellent coffee.
But what if Gunnar is there? That idea pokes a pin in my excitement.
He shouldn’t be. As far as I know, he’s never received documentation to travel from the past to the present…
No. Too risky.
Ugh. But I really want coffee.
My caffeine craving wins out, and in five minutes, I’m outside Moon Beans and Books Cafe. Like a coward, I do a quick scan of the windows to see if Gunnar is inside. The coffee shop is mostly empty with no sign of a certain Viking stud.
Jamie Sullivan greets me with a big smile. “Hey, Arlo! Been a while.”
