His Unidentified & Untouchable Mate

Running Away

Zahraa POV

I should’ve hit him.

Maybe I would’ve been more satisfied if I took off my glove and struck his face, hurting us both in the process. I felt so numb by betrayal that I wouldn’t have felt much anyway, I’m sure.

The moment I was through the Door, the tears were falling, big and fat and ugly. I started hiccupping, hugging myself.

Where did this feeling come from? Before, hadn’t I just been trying this out? When did I get so entangled in his web that I would sob over him like this? We’d never even had the ‘exclusivity’ talk.

Did we need to, when we were mates?

I hadn’t been fully aware of where I was opening my Door to, but it was some kind of dark, empty office. The tears were really blinding me, so I stumbled forward, pulled out a chair and slumped into it, hiding my face with my hands as I hiccupped pathetically.

I’d seen everything.

Amber had a beautiful body, full hips, large… assets. I was slimmer, smaller breasted with narrower hips. Maybe that was his type. Maybe I just wasn’t what he wanted in a woman.

Or maybe he just wanted a woman he could touch.

I barely heard the opening of the door, and the clicking of the lights coming on. “Zahraa?” I heard a man ask, softly. “Is that you?”

I would recognize Rowan’s voice anywhere. Perhaps it was foolish of me to give up on my one-sided crush of the alpha. It hurt less than an actual semi-relationship with Jacob.

I heard him come closer, but couldn’t bear the idea of lifting my head and showing him my face after crying so hard. There was a shuffle, and through the fabric of a handkerchief, he lifted my chin.

I hated the feeling of being so exposed and vulnerable. Why hadn’t I just gone home?

Easy question: that would have been the first place he checked. The second would be Ingrid’s home. With Rowan, I felt safe and secure.

“What happened?” he asked, voice hardening. “Who did this?”

The anger on his voice should’ve soothed me, but instead, it only made me feel worse. I didn’t want to start a fight amongst brothers. I didn’t want Rowan to be angry with Jacob.

Worse still, I didn’t want Rowan to side with Jacob.

“Zahraa, you know you can tell me,” he knelt in front of me, lowering his hands to my knees, speaking in a much softer tone. “Just let me help you. Like I used to.”

Memories came flooding back.

I would cry in various places when I was being bullied, and Rowan almost always stumbled upon me. I’d heard the words who did this so many times that it barely made my heart flutter anymore – yet my traitorous heart still reacted to him.

Perhaps that was better than reacting to Jacob.

My phone buzzed, and I ignored it. Rowan took the initiative, pulling it from my back pocket to check the display.

Of course, it was Jacob.

Rowan growled. “I knew that i***t would screw this up. What did he do this time?”

I whimpered involuntarily, and he offered me the handkerchief. I cleaned myself up as best I could without looking completely gross and balled it up, clutching it tightly in my lap with shaking hands. “She was on his lap… half-naked…” I sniffled, feeling pathetic. “He kissed her.”

Another snarl ripped from his throat. “i***t. i***t,” he snapped. There was a knock on his door, and he froze for a second, looking from it to me. “One minute – I’ll send them away.”

I felt awful as he stood and moved to the door, cracking it and blocking the view inside with his body, as he said, “Come back later,” without waiting for the wolf on the other side to talk at all.

There was hesitation, then a weak, “Yes, alpha.”

“Sorry about that,” he said, shutting the door.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, taking some deep breaths before replying, “I should be sorry. I shouldn’t have come in here.”

“You’re always welcome,” he said so quickly I’d barely gotten the words out. “I mean. You’re a member of my pack, so…”

There it was: that separation.

When we were younger, it was easier to meet in secret, to talk about things. I talked about my bullies, the things they’d said and how it hurt me. He talked about the pressures of being an alpha apprentice, and the weight of his father’s expectations for him. I’d thought we could be something back then. I thought, ignoring my limitations, maybe he could choose me.

Then he found his mate, and lost all interest in me.

Then he became alpha, and became too busy for me.

It was always going to happen that way, I knew. I was no one to him. Nothing. And I would remain that way forever.

He took the handkerchief and wiped away another tear. “Do you want me to take you home?”

Feeling lost, I could only shake my head.

He hesitated, then asked, “Do you want me to bring you up to the alpha suite? There’s an extra bedroom. You can stay as long as you like.”

It would take Jacob longer to find me there, at least.

I nodded, pushing myself out of the chair. I knew I couldn’t take up his office for too long – he was a busy man. He walked with me, his hand on my lower back as he led me to a stairwell, then up, up, up.

The alpha suite was behind a door with a keycode, which he keyed in front of me without worrying if I could see (why hide it, when I could open a Door inside whenever I wanted?). I expected it to be more like Jacob’s floor – cold, like a home you’d see in a home décor ad, where nothing looked lived in.

This place looked lived in.

It was open concept, with a full view of the kitchen, dining area and living room. There was a coffee mug drying, and a bowl for whatever breakfast he’d had here in the kitchen. In the living room, there was a throw blanket folded and left over the arm of a chair. There were documents everywhere he might’ve worked from home. On the dining table, on the coffee table in the living room, on the island in the kitchen.

“Sorry for the mess,” he said, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “If you see something you want out of the way, just stack it to the side. I’ll go through and file it – I should’ve already.”

“No, no, no,” I replied, looking up at him through bleary eyes. “This is your home. Sorry for intruding…” I sniffled again. “It’s just… my apartment is the first place he’ll look, and I don’t want to see him now.”

“I understand,” his voice was warm, like a hot bath on a cold day, seeping into my muscles and relaxing them. “I’m here alone, so take your time. Go back when you’re ready. I can have an omega fetch some clothes if you like.”

I shook my head. “I’ve troubled you enough; I’ll open a Door to grab anything I need from home.

He looked me over, as though he was worried I was pushing myself too hard.

Maybe I was.

“Let me show you to your new quarters, my lady,” he joked, putting his hand on my lower back as he walked me to a spare bedroom.

Now this room looked staged. The bed was made, but turned back at an angle. The photos on the walls were that of ships, and a small scale model of the Mayflower adorned the dresser.

I came face to face with a mirror, and I locked up as my reflection pounded against the glass. She was furious, tears stinging her eyes. Just a moment of making eye contact with her, the actual mirror began to physically shake, and I took a step back, my breath hitching in my throat.

“Goddess,” Rowan muttered, rushing forward. He grabbed a small anchor model off a table nearby and launched it into the mirror, shattering it into dozens of pieces, then shut the door. “Are you okay?” he asked, looking at me.

I blanched, then after a moment, realized I’d been holding my breath. I exhaled, but then started hyperventilating, backing myself into a wall.

“Zahraa, I’m sorry,” he apologized, but I’m not sure he knew what for. I started to slide down the wall, but he caught me, scooping me into his arms, careful to avoid touching skin. “I forgot about the mirror thing. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

Had he seen her?

Had he seen the mirror shake?

Or had he thought this was a mere phobia?

…Had the mirror really moved at all?

New anxiety rushed over me, and I felt sick to my stomach. I was being carried somewhere, but I was too busy focusing on my panic to realize where until I was placed in a bed that smelled thickly of him.

As if snapped out of a trance, I looked up at him. He looked more worried than I’d seen him in a long time. What a shame that it was over me.

“Are you okay?”

I swallowed the lump that had formed in the back of my throat, a thick soreness that made my voice gravelly when I muttered, “Yes.”

“I have to get back to work,” he rocked on his feet, hesitating. “I’ll send someone to clean that mirror up, and take the others down. You get some rest. We can talk more when I get home.” He paused, then with a small smile asked, “Want to order from Boardwalk for dinner? We can watch some movies to take your mind off things.”

I nodded without hesitation. Boardwalk was more of a buffet style place that had a lot of different kinds of food. My favorite was the kabsa, a very flavorful rice dish.

He lingered in the doorway for a moment, then knocked a couple of times before leaving me alone to my own devices.

Surrounded by the smell of him, in an unfamiliar bed, I was sure that I would never get any rest.

Somehow, though, I fell asleep quickly.