The Fake Mate

when it hits me, it’s like a lightning strike.

I scent her the moment I step off the elevator onto her floor, and everything that comes after is hazy, like I’m watching it happen from outside my body. Coming to find her so that we can have lunch is a faraway thought, drowned in the all-encompassing sensation of being struck with Mackenzie’s scent that is practically dripping from the fucking walls. Even without being able to see her, it is immediately clear to me what’s happened. I can’t say why, or even how, but my body knows that she needs me. It becomes the driving force that seems to keep me moving.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, my heart rate rising and my blood rushing in my ears as my feet start to carry me down the hall in search of her. I can feel them pad one after the other as I move as if being pulled by a string, a hypnotic chanting in my head of omega omega omega that seeps into every facet of my being. I can’t begin to know what’s happening, or why my body is responding the way it is, but right now I am little more than a blind need to get to her.

There’s a small crowd around the nurses’ station, and even though I can’t see her, I know Mackenzie is here even before I begin to push through the small gathering of people. I can hear a male voice that sounds tight and strained, one that is asking another person if they can hear him, if they’re okay.

But it is only when I can see her—see her small body curled in on itself with flushed skin and damp hair clinging to her temples—that I really start to lose it.

Because someone is touching her. Another wolf who looks up at me with a hardness to his eyes that I can somehow sense is bordering on challenge, and with the way red flashes in my vision, it takes me a second longer than it should to recognize Mackenzie’s nurse friend from yesterday hovering near her panting form, looking at me like he wishes I were anywhere else.

Mine. Omega. Mine.

I grind my teeth together and clench my fists, a brief urge to tear him away from her, one that is hard to ignore, but somehow I manage to keep it contained. “I need everyone to back away from my mate now, please,” I ask as evenly as I can. Even to my own ears it sounds rough. It takes every shred of my control to keep from tearing the others from her physically. “I’ve got her.”

Liam’s fingers linger at her arm for almost longer than my frazzled senses can stand, but when I take another step to close the distance between us, I notice his hand curling from her forearm and pulling away before he slowly moves to stand.

“She’s going into heat,” he says in a hard tone.

My nostrils flare, the evidence of this practically burrowing itself into my brain. “Yes. Which is why I am taking her home. But I need everyone to give us some space.”

Mine. Omega. Mine.

“Why would you let her leave home this morning?”

My jaw clenches so hard it might crack my teeth if I keep it up. His scent is agitated, and sampling it mixed in with Mackenzie’s is making my stomach turn. Scenting her with anyone else feels completely wrong. Especially now. “She wasn’t showing signs this morning.”

And it’s true, she hadn’t—but that knowledge doesn’t stop me from wanting to kick my own ass for possibly being even a little at fault. For letting anyone else see her like this. The more primal part of my brain is actively berating me because I should be the only one to see her like this, it roars.

“Well she sure as hell is now,” Liam grinds out. “She’s burning up. She needs—”

“I know exactly what she needs,” I hiss. “Thank you.”

I ignore him then, moving to Mackenzie’s side and pushing down the territorial rumbling in my chest when I notice her friend—Parker, I think she said his name was—is still touching her. The fact that I can tell he is human and therefore can’t possibly scent her like this is the only thing keeping me in check. It’s the only thing keeping me from ripping his hand from her body.

Parker frowns at me, still clutching Mackenzie’s shoulders. “She collapsed. She was complaining of a headache, and then she started looking pale, and she just . . .” He looks down at her with concern. “She really is burning up.”

I nod absently, not bothering to look at him. I can’t tear my eyes from Mackenzie now. “I’ve got her,” I murmur. “I’m going to take her home.”

Parker’s hand pushes between us just as I reach for her, his expression hard and showing not even an ounce of fear at getting between an alpha and an omega approaching her heat. Actually, he almost looks like he might attempt to kick my ass if I keep going. The shred of sanity I’m clinging to reminds me it would be bad to make an enemy of Mackenzie’s best friend.

“We both know why I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Parker says, low enough for only me to hear. “I don’t know if I should just let you—”

“Noah?”

Mackenzie surprises us both when she pushes up from the floor, tearing herself out of Parker’s grip and winding her arms around my neck and pulling herself closer so she can nuzzle at the front of my shirt. I can feel her inhale, hear her soft sigh after.

“Noah,” she breathes again, almost like a coo. Like she’s relieved.

I bring my arms around her. “I’m here.”

“Hurts,” she groans quietly.

“I know,” I soothe. “I’ve got you.”

She pulls her head back to blink at me, turning her neck slightly to take in the small crowd. “Can we go? I don’t . . .” Her fingers clutch at my shirt tighter. “Take me home.”

“Of course.” She doesn’t protest in the slightest when I pull her into my arms before standing, holding her against my chest to cradle her there. “I’ll take you home.” I look at Parker then, noticing he still looks more than wary of me. I step closer, lowering my voice. “I would never do anything she doesn’t want, but right now, my scent can at the very least keep her calm. Let me take care of her. If all she wants is to be near me, then that’s as far as it will go. You have my word on that. All right?”

He still looks unsure when I pull away, looking from me to Mackenzie and back again, finally nodding reluctantly. “I’m going to fucking hold you to that, Taylor.”

I’m already turning away from him before he’s even finished speaking, pushing through the crowd with Mackenzie in my arms even as she burrows closer against me, her face tucking into the crook of my neck as her breath puffs against my skin.

“Don’t let go,” she murmurs, sounding pained and tired.

I don’t know if she hears me answer—Never—since she dozes off then, but it’s probably for the best, given that I have no idea why I even said it.

i’ve been watching her sleep for more than an hour.

On any other occasion, I might worry that I was being a total creep, and there’s still a high possibility that I could be—but I don’t think I can physically take my eyes off her.

She’d woken only for a moment when I laid her in my bed after I had gotten her back to my place, only long enough to bury herself in my sheets and wildly pull the blankets around her. Almost like she’s nesting. Every so often she makes a tiny, pained sound in her sleep, and each one tugs at something inside of me that I don’t recognize. Each one pokes at that barely checked mania that seems to seep out of me whenever I’m near her. And those feelings are a thousand times worse now, with her scent filling my bedroom and most likely permeating the walls to the point that it might never fade. I can’t even find it in me to mind, honestly.

Admittedly, this isn’t the first time I’ve experienced this. I’m seasoned enough that I’ve helped more than one shifter woman I’ve dated through her heat in the last decade or so—but I have never felt something as blinding as what I’m feeling sitting only a foot from the tiny omega in my bed whose scent threatens to drive me insane. What I’m feeling now seems bigger, more consuming, even. What I’m feeling now makes it hard to keep still. Almost like every fiber of my being is protesting that it isn’t wrapped up in her.

And if it’s this bad now, how much worse will it be when she fully goes into heat? I know this is just a taste of what’s to come, and that idea both delights and terrifies. Will I be able to keep my control when she loses hers?

I wonder if there had been some sort of sign I should have picked up on, if there had been any subtle tells that I might have sussed out this morning before leaving her alone. In all my experiences with someone’s heat, it has been something very scheduled, something that comes about almost like clockwork. It’s always been a building of recognizable symptoms that allowed for someone to plan—but I have never seen anyone go into heat this suddenly, and definitely not this fiercely.

It’s enough to make me wonder about all sorts of things, but mostly I find myself concentrating solely on the rise and fall of her chest, the soft sounds she makes in sleep, and the enticing fragrance of her, which washes over me in waves.

I don’t know how long I wait before I catch her lashes fluttering, sitting up straighter when I notice her stirring, her hands slowly pushing her into a more upright position as she blinks around the room in a daze. She notices me sitting at the end of the bed then, her brow furrowing as she seemingly tries to rectify my presence there with what she’s feeling—or at least that’s what I would guess.

I keep perfectly still, wrestling with the urge to touch her, even slightly. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” she croaks. “Hot.” She wrinkles her nose down at her rumpled scrubs. “I’m all sweaty.”

I cannot tell her that I’ve been fantasizing about licking the sweat from her body for the last hour or so. Definitely not.

“Did you . . . expect this?”

Her eyes find mine only to widen, looking taken aback. “What? No! I had no idea. I’ve never . . .” Her eyes drift closed as she makes a quiet sound, one that feels like it touches me all over. “Definitely never had one come all of a sudden like this.”

“How off schedule?”

“A month? Maybe? It’s barely been six weeks, and they usually come like clockwork. I promise, I wouldn’t have ever kept this from you.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” I assure her. We both know how irresponsible it might be to dive into something like this without any sort of caution; surely she is as aware as I am of how many mating bonds occur like this, only for those same couples to be undergoing painful procedures later on to break the bond when they realize they’re no good for each other. “But it doesn’t make sense,” I tell her truthfully. “I’ve never heard of a heat coming so off schedule.”

She shakes her head. “Neither have I.”

“There weren’t any signs?”

“None that seemed super obvious,” she says. “I’ve been a little flushed since yesterday, but I thought that was just because you—” She blushes, and as much as I’d like to beg her to finish that sentence, I keep quiet, letting her talk. “I didn’t think anything of it. I had a horrible headache earlier, too, but even that’s weird. It’s never been that bad before a heat.” She looks at me intently. “Have you ever heard of anything like this?”

I shake my head. “Never.”

“What do you think it means?”

“I think . . . it might be one of those consequences I mentioned that we couldn’t have possibly known when we . . . added our little addendum.”

She averts her gaze, sounding almost disappointed. “Consequences?”

“That doesn’t mean I regret the addendum,” I tell her immediately, needing her to know. “But it does mean I have no idea what we should do.”

She looks more placated now. “I know.”

“Does it still hurt? Your head?”

“Not as bad. Not since—” She blushes again. “It got better when you got there. I think your scent is helping.”

“That part, at least, makes sense,” I muse.

We’re both still, both looking at each other from across my bed with what is likely the same question on our tongues. Even if neither of us seems to be able to come out and ask it.

“You’ll need to shift,” I say. “It’ll start to hurt if you don’t.”

“I know,” she sighs. “Usually, I book a stay at the heat retreat at the edge of town, but there’s no way they’ll be able to work me in on such short notice.”

I have to physically restrain myself from prodding about how she took care of this in the past, who she took care of it with—focusing instead on what’s happening right now. I know if I let my mind wander too much in that direction it will be hard to keep as calm as I’m attempting to be for her sake.

“I know a place,” I tell her. “It’s not far. Maybe two hours. We could go there. If you want.”

Her eyes look rounder, brighter, like she’s curious. “We?”

“That is—” I clear my throat, looking away from her. “I didn’t mean to imply that—I just meant—Fuck.” I run my hands through my hair. “I don’t know what the protocol is here. I could still make arrangements for you to go alone, if that’s what you want.”

“And that . . . You could do that?”

It’s almost agony, imagining sending her away from me the way she is right now, but I remember my promise to Parker, and I remember that I am not a fucking animal despite what I am, and I nod heavily. “If that’s what you want. I will do anything you want me to, Mackenzie.”

She looks down at the sheets that are rumpled around her waist, her finger teasing the edge of one as her teeth imprint slightly against her bottom lip. I watch this intently, battling urges to nibble at that same lip myself before I use my mouth elsewhere. Does she have to smell so goddamn good?

“And if . . .” I can hear her swallow, see the way she shifts her body minutely. My eyes track every little movement. “And if I wanted you to come with me?”

Yes. Omega. Mine.

I grit my teeth against the loud growling somewhere deep in my subconscious, willing it to be quiet. “Do you?”

She holds my gaze, her bright, amber eyes much darker now—a raw, deep honey that I could easily get lost in. “I want you to come with me.”

“You want . . .” My fingernails bite into my skin through the material of my slacks, and I let the slight sting ground me. “You want my help.”

It takes her at least ten seconds to answer, “Yes. We . . . we said we could help each other, didn’t we?”

And even as she says it there is a growing part of me that knows it’s becoming dangerous, that the lines of our agreement are blurring astronomically—at least for me. It’s for that reason alone that I should send her to my cousin’s cabin outside of town, that I should put as much distance as I can between us so I don’t risk tumbling headfirst into the disaster that will surely result from me sharing such an intimate experience with this woman who is invading my thoughts more and more each day.

But I don’t do any of those things, because the idea of touching her right now feels more important than water. Than air, even.

“Yes. We did.”

“And you know a place?”

I nod. “My cousin owns a small ski lodge in Pleasant Hill. Just under a two-hour drive, give or take,” I tell her again. “I’m sure he would be willing to let us . . . borrow it. For a few days.”

My body is almost screaming at the idea of being alone with Mackenzie for a string of days when she smells as incredible as she does right now. All the things I’m thinking of doing to her. She might run away screaming if she could read my thoughts.

“What about work?”

I blink. I hadn’t thought of this yet. I frown into my lap, considering all the options before the most obvious one hits me. “I have heat leave.”

“You do?”

I look up to meet her eyes. “We do,” I correct. “You are my mate, after all.”

“Mate,” she echoes, and the heated way she looks at me . . . I wish I could capture it somehow. So that I could take it out and look at it whenever I want. “As far as they know.”

Reality is a fickle bitch, and the reminder of the falsity of everything between us holds an odd sting. I don’t have the mental capacity to explore why right now, too distracted by her soft blush and her softer mouth. I can’t really consider anything outside of getting Mackenzie into a bed where I can taste and touch her to my heart’s content for the foreseeable future.

“Right,” I manage.

She bites her lip again, and I have to send down a silent plea that my cock calm down, knowing she needs me to be stronger than that right now. That I will have arrangements to make shortly.

“Okay,” she says easily.

“Okay?” I might be an idiot for questioning her, but I have to be certain. “And you’re sure you want me to . . . help?”

She considers this for a moment with her eyes still studying my face, finally rustling away from her little nest of covers and crawling slowly across the bed to bring herself nearer to me. She doesn’t touch me, keeping her hands pressed firmly to the mattress—but I can feel her warm breath against my mouth moments before she brushes her lips over mine, and it takes everything I have not to take her right here, even knowing that we would most likely destroy my house when her need to shift sets in.

Right now it almost feels like that possibility could be worth it.

“I’m sure,” she murmurs. “Make the call.” Another kiss that is slight but threatens to make me crazy just the same. “Hurry, Noah.”

I don’t think I’ve ever moved faster.