Page 85 of Hungry Like the Wolf

“I did know. I just didn’t know that I did.”

She shook her head, never removing her palms from her face.

“I did. Nadja. Baby, I did. The first time I walked in here, the pain became blinding instantly. Like my wolf smelled you and was desperate to get out. And every single day after that, I had to know where you were. I had to be within smelling distance of you or I went crazy. My anxiety was high anytime I couldn’t smell you close. And when you were getting weaker and weaker and I didn’t know what was wrong, I thought about driving to the nearest town and kidnapping a doctor. You wouldn’t let me help you and I felt like I was going to crawl out of my skin.”

She sobbed harder. He threaded his arms beneath her back, cradling the back of her head in his palms.

“And when you left,” he whispered, closing his own eyes against the memories, “I was in more pain than I’d ever been in before. JJ had to command me to shift, to run. I would have laid on the floor of the cabin until I rotted if he hadn’t. I smelled you everywhere and was clawing my pants off every time I did. I was feral. I found a pair of your panties that you left behind and jacked off four times in a row and almost threw up after because my body was screaming for you. It didn’t understand that you weren’t there.”

She lowered her hands and looked up at him, her eyes red and swollen from crying.

“And when Callum said you were here and that you looked sick, Nadja, I’ve never been so afraid in my life. I left pack dinner on the stove and ran out of there like my ass was on fire.”

Nadja snorted a small laugh, sniffling. He looked over and saw a box of tissues on the coffee table, releasing her just long enough to hand her a few before returning his arm to hold her from beneath. She blew her nose and wiped it, tossing the used tissue off to the side.

“And then I saw you,” he whispered. “I like Hank a whole lot, but smelling him here, so close to you, when I had thought I’d never see you again, I lost my mind. Not because I was jealous, but—no, actually, I think I was jealous.”

“Hank is a client,” Nadja said.

“I know he’s your client. And he’s my friend. I wasn’t jealous of him like that. He’s so gone for Esther that he can’t be in the same room with her without getting those cartoon-heart eyes.”

Nadja smiled. It was a little smile and no doubt she was trying to stifle it, but it was there all the same.

“I was jealous because all those weeks that I thought I’d never see you again, you’d been here. And other people had gotten to see you, to talk to you, to be in the same room as you. I was—I am— jealous of that time I missed.”

“Robbie,” she said, lifting her hand and threading her fingers through his hair. It felt so good. Ear scratch good. Belly rub good. He groaned softly and leaned into her touch.

“I missed you,” he said.

“I missed you, too,” she replied.

“Then why did you leave?”

He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear her answer, but he had to all the same.

“He told me that if you found your fated mate, you wouldn’t be able to deny them. It would be like I’d never existed. And I—” She sucked in a shaky breath. “I couldn’t stay and watch that happen. Better to leave before I got too attached. Before you got too attached and we both got hurt.”

He nodded, his lips pursed. It made sense while at the same time being the most absurd thing he’d ever heard. It would have been a smart way to protect themselves, separating, if they were just two random people crossing paths on the road.

But for his mate to have left him because she was worried about him finding his mate was so comical to him that he laughed. She glared at him. “Why is that funny?” she asked, prickly.

“It’s not. It’s so damn sad that I have to laugh or I’ll cry.” He buried his face in her neck, smelling deeply. His lips were against her throat when he said, “I did meet my fated mate. And I wasn’t able to deny her. Anything. And it is like nobody else ever existed. And I am attached.”

She gasped, clenching against him and his cock twitched inside of her from the sensation. He thrust into her gently, shallowly, as he rubbed his lips against her throat.

“And so I’ll ask you again, Nadja. What does my mate want?”

She was so still and quiet that he felt the threads of anxiety winding around his heart. But then she slid her fingers from his hair to his back, digging her nails into his skin and wrapping her legs around his hips, pulling him closer to him.

“What does my love want?” he asked, clinging to his control by his fingertips.

She froze beneath him, wrapped around him like moss on a tree. He stopped thrusting and pushed up enough to look down at her, to see her eyes shining with tears again but wide with surprise.

“Your love?” she asked, her bottom lip trembling.

He smiled and kissed her, drawing that bottom lip gently between his teeth.

“I love you,” he said against her mouth. “Mate.”