Page 42 of Brock’s Mate

Brock didn’t know what to say. He’d waded into her life, assuming she was broken, and that she needed him to fix her.

And she was broken—he sensed she’d been hurt and broken many times. But she’d learned how to put herself back together, stronger than before—and she even knew how to pour gold in the cracks and make them into a work of art.

Kintsugi was her hope that she was still worthy, still had value.

Brock had put a lot of people back together in his day. But he suddenly wondered if he’d ever been able to make them feel that they were still precious. Still beautiful.

He sure as fuck hadn’t been able to do that for himself.

He was struck with a powerful yearning, pulling him toward this woman. A desire—a need—to see if she could put his broken pieces back together, somehow turn him back into something whole and valuable. Treasured.

Mate.

And for the first time, instead of filling him with fear, the sound of the word gave him a little glimmer of hope.

Chapter 16

Later that night, when Desi was getting ready for bed, Brock knocked on her door. She told him to come in, but he didn’t—not really. Just far enough to lay a large manila envelope on the chair by the door.

Her stash envelope. She’d figured—hoped—it was still hidden at her rental.

He said, “I forgot to tell you I had this in my safe. I thought maybe you’d feel better if you knew where it was.”

After a second’s hesitation, she went over and picked up the envelope, looking inside. Her cash and all her IDs were there.

She didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t believe he’d found her hidey-hole in the cabin—or even that he’d been smart enough to look for it. She really couldn’t believe he was giving this all back to her.

It was everything she needed to run. Was this his way of telling her he trusted her?

As if he were reading her mind, Brock added, “Please don’t run away in the middle of the night. I need a good night’s sleep before I have to chase after you.”

“Um. Okay? It’ll be more fun in the daytime anyway. More of a challenge.”

That got a lopsided grin. “Good to know.” He hesitated, like he was going to say something else, but he didn’t. Just kept looking at her until she could feel the heat coming off him.

And rising in her.

Time seemed suspended for a long moment, and then they were moving towards each other like they were magnetized.

Slowly, Brock raised his hand until his fingertips were lightly touching her cheek. All Desi could see were his eyes, hazel flecked with gold, like his wolf was just under the surface.

She heard a faint growl, but she didn’t know if it was her or him.

Then their lips were together and their arms wrapped around each other. Warmth spread through Desi, radiating from her chest. She could still feel the rumbling growl between them—not angry, but more like a hum of satisfaction.

It wasn’t like last time, with its wild desperate heat. Brock’s lips moved against hers, tasting, his tongue stroking, tangling with hers, drinking her in like a man dying of thirst.

She had no idea how long it went on, but he was the one who broke the kiss, closing his eyes and resting his forehead on the top of her head. “Fuck,” he whispered softly.

Which could mean anything. Desi was so breathless she couldn’t say anything at all.

And before she could gather herself, Brock let go of her and stepped away. “Sleep well,” he said. And he was gone.

It turned out neither of them got a good night’s sleep. About two hours after she went to bed, Desi woke to the sound of Brock’s footsteps downstairs, like he was pacing back and forth.

Then, finally, she heard the door bang open.

Was Jered here? Or DiSantos?