His Unidentified & Untouchable Mate

Shattered Trust

Zahraa POV

Rowan’s words stuck in my mind as if trapped in a tar pit. It was black, sticky; something no one wanted to look at. An ugly pit, an ugly sentiment.

I didn’t want to distrust Jacob, but Rowan sure thought that I shouldn’t put my faith in him. And Rowan had earned my trust over the years, so if he thought that I shouldn’t, it felt so difficult for me to ignore that.

But I was drawn to Jacob, somehow. Like a magnetic pull that I felt in my chest. Ingrid had told me that mates of different races rarely feel the mate bond immediately, but they do often fall in love with their fated match. I had been drawn to him from the start, like he was a beacon, and I his moth.

“Oh, Zahraa,” Miss Rogers, the head omega of the central pack, looked surprised to see me back so soon. “Have you had lunch yet, dear?”

“No,” I replied. “I was going to eat with Jacob.”

“He’s already eaten,” she replied. Something about her tone was snippy, off. “Why don’t you come with me, and I’ll get the chef to make you something nice?”

I didn’t trust her.

It wasn’t often that I got that gut feeling that something was amiss, but now it was a tidal wave versus my little sailboat, rocking me violently. “No thank you,” I replied. “I had told Jacob I would report after my meeting, so I should do that.” I turned sharply to go before she could argue further, but I was surprised to feel a firm grip on my shoulder.

“Zahraa, I must insist you have some tea with me at least.”

My brows furrowed. She was hiding something – something was wrong. Alarm bells were going off in my head, yet…

I couldn’t refuse her.

I nodded once. “Fine.”

Jacob POV

I hated letting Zahraa go see Rowan alone, but I had to acknowledge that she’d have an easier time getting information out of him than I would. Still, the moment she left the building, the minutes seemed to tick by like hours, and I had to fight the urge to text her each and every one.

I started to throw myself into work. My new position was more rewarding, I supposed. I was offered more punitive power, which surprisingly required a lot of research into the people involved in crime, or accused of it. I was researching an omega babysitter that had supposedly stolen over 3,000 dollars’ worth of beanie babies(?!) when there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” I called without so much as raising my head.

The door opened, and in walked Amber. She was dressed in little more than lingerie, her top a mere strapless strip of fabric covering her breasts, her bottoms a pair of jeans cut so short, I could see her front pockets sticking out, and two sinful little straps of a thong exposed at the top.

When we’d been together, I’d hated her dressing that way. It drew all the men’s attention – especially mine.

“Just came to check in on you,” she purred, sauntering over to a chair. When she sat, she crossed one long, thin leg over the other. “I haven’t seen you since your birthday. When I heard you got a promotion, I thought I’d come congratulate you.”

“Thank you,” I replied, stiffly. “But I am in the middle of something…” I glanced at my computer screen, on which was a picture of the happy mother posing in front of a mountain of stuffed animals. “…important.”

“You should take a break,” she uncrossed her legs, leaning in and resting her elbows on the table. I could see all the way down her cleavage to her stomach. I forced my eyes on the computer screen, opening my email and trying to formulate words to send to the original owners. “You look tense.” Her voice dropped to a sultry singsong when she added, “I could help with that, you know.”

“Get out,” I growled. “We’ve already had this talk: and this is not what friends do, Amber.”

She had the audacity to chuckle, moving forward with swaying hips as she went around my desk and lay hands on my shoulders. “You can’t seriously still be stuck on that girl as your mate.”

“I am.”

Amber continued as if she hadn’t heard me. “I’ve heard a lot about her, you know? She’s the talk of the town. Can’t be touched, can’t contend with werewolf strength, doesn’t even know who or what she is… she’s not much of a prospect.”

I swatted at her hand. “More of a ‘prospect’ than you ever were,” I spat, “Zahraa at least has class.”

She snorted a laugh, and jerked my chair to face her before straddling my lap. “A mate doesn’t need class. She needs to be able to do…” her fingertips trailed my chest, finding the top button of my shirt and undoing it. “…other things.”

I could overpower Amber easily. I could throw her off, yell at her to leave. If she refused, I could have gammas escort her out. If she came back, I could inflict real punishment.

But when her lips crashed down upon mine, it was like a tidal wave that awoke a slumbering primal instinct. My hands grasped her hips, pulling her in so I could grind my erection against her, my tongue parted her lips, tasting her mouth, bitter with the taste of stale nicotine.

I closed my eyes, and I pictured Zahraa.

It was stupid. It was dangerous – Zahraa was my secretary; she could come in at any given moment. But that added to the thrill.

That stupid little strip of fabric came off at some point, and she had my shirt down to only three buttons left when Zahraa walked in.

I should have seen it coming. Amber was a manipulative b***h – there was no way she’d plan something like this without Zahraa finding out ASAP.

I pushed Amber off of my lap, standing, but there was no excusing this situation. There was no pretending I hadn’t been receptive of her – hell, she was half naked on my lap, undoing my shirt with her tongue down my throat.

“Zahraa…” her name felt dirty on my lips. I had no right to speak it, I knew. But all the same, I needed her forgiveness. Her understanding.

Wolves were s****l beings, weren’t we? I needed more. I couldn’t help it. She’d touched me in all the right ways – she knew all the right ways to touch me. My mouth started to form the words, but I knew how stupid they were before I spoke them. I knew there was no real excuse for what I’d just done. Or was about to do.

She set down a platter with some tea, the same she’d brought me the other day. “Sorry to disturb you, sir,” she said, with a coldness in her voice. “I’ll knock next time.” She turned around with a robotic stiffness and marched her way to the door.

I lunged after her, but Amber grabbed my arm, a wicked grin on her face. With a quick fling, I threw her against the wall. Photos of my experiences rained down on her – including our stupid prom photo.

The distraction gave Zahraa time to open a Door, which glowed so brightly golden when opened, I couldn’t tell where she was going. She stepped through and slammed it in my face.

And damn if I didn’t deserve that.