The Mate That Wasn't Mine novel Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Chapter 22

TESSA POV

“Tessal

I’m halfway towards standing, letting out a little shriek at the amount of my blood staining my

hand and the floor below.

“If you don’t talk to me I’m coming in!” His voice is sharp, pissed. He’s standing by the stable door but I don’t trust him not to come any closer,

“Leave it, I’m fine! I’m fine!” dragging up my panties and tan pants as fast as possible. Bent over I hear the double doors slamming back open. The force sends the half–dozen lanterns swaying, shadows going haywire.

Completely alone and semi–naked, this isn’t how I envisaged dealing with Maxim after the past twenty–four hours.

“Tell me what’s happened? Was it an accident?”

I don’t know how to explain how I’ve gone from hero to zero in my two skills. How I am hopefully avoiding the chop by the grace of our lie. So I quickly fasten my bra, feeling the urge to dress quickly before he does something silly.

Except Maxim doesn’t quit,.

“What happened? Where the fuck were Briggs and Irene?”

“I said I’m fine!” my voice breaks when fastening my bra strap causes me to stretch the still–damaged, scabbing skin over my ribs. I hiss at the sight of the bright red claw marks left embedded. There is no passing this off as a fall.

“There“‘s blood on the fucking floor, don’t lie to me!”

I’m too lost in staring down at the open wound to realise Maxim has strode right in. I let out a shriek when stands in front of my unit, close enough to look straight over and see everything. He rubs his bearded jaw, before staring straight at me.

“What the fuck am I looking at Tessa? They’re claw marks!”

“I’m still getting dressed!”

“Why won’t you just tell me?”

“Because I don’t have to!”

“Get here now,” he barks, reaching his hand over the top of my door to unclip the lock and swing the door wide open. “Right now. Over here. I want to look at you.”

“Maxim!”

“Into the light!” he snaps, his hand grabbing the uninjured side of my waist like I weigh nothing, my feet stumbling with the speed he drags me. Before! can protest further, he drops to his knees on the dusty floor. One hand remaining on my good side, the other starts tenderly inspecting the injury, fighting the swaying shadows.

Holding my breath, my hands are knotted around the back of my neck, There is nothing behind or above me to grab onto. Just the slow mortification of being in white bra, nipples hardening under the cool air, watching his hand slowly pass over the ragged scratches.

There is no more weeping blood at least, my wolf is already working on healing it. Just damaged pride and a lesson to be learned. I can’t look, as his fingers really examine the wound, twisting me to the right to get better light.

Whilst Maxim silently inspects my waist with the tenderest of touches, I look at the open door. My bouquet of arrows and flowers has been unceremoniously dumped to the floor.

1/4

Chapter 22

Wincing. I feel him slowly work a piece of gritty stone out of the deepest wound. When I jump at the sharp, stabbing sensation his other hand – bare waist. Then his nose gently rubs my stomach reassuringly, whispering “hold on another minute.”

I could hold on for another year. My efforts to look away fail. I’m utterly absorbed in watching Maxim slowly handle my bare walst. I want to run my hand, through his hair and keep him pressed there until he kisses my stomach.

Finally he whispers a soft, “got it.” Then his head tilts to look straight up at me, still on his knees before me. “I need to know Tess. This isn’t right. This shouldn’t happen.”

That amber–eyed power, searching my face for answers I don’t want to give.

My voice is a whisper, fully aware his thumb is stroking up and down my undamaged side. Maybe he’s trying to comfort me, all he’s doing is make my skin

fizz.

“You’ll do something rash.”

No smile. No jokes. Completely serious, that hardness in his amber that

eyes

I’ve

only

seen glimpses of before. “You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

He exhales through his nose, sending his warm breath across my bare stomach like a stroke of his fingertips. “Just tell me. Or I’ll do something worse.”

There is no humour twinkling in his eyes. His bearded jaw is set as fiercely as the first morning when Warden Marshall pissed him off. He’s genuinely

furious.

“Like what?”

“I’ll go and shut the dining hall down. Then Block A. I’ll stand on tables and demand to know who the fuck thought they could hurt you.”

“I should have been smarter out there, that’s all. I mean Irene got the win, please don’t shout at me about that too.”

His eyebrow raises. He’s trying so hard not to lose his cool it’s almost endearing. How much carnage would Maxim cause on my behalf? What would be necessary for disrespecting a fake–mate.

“What…so you found the scent, Irene took the win, and you got fucking clawed?”

I look up at the ceiling, feeling too stupid to answer him. My hands leave my neck and rest on my cheeks. Praying to nothing, “You warned me about helping friends, I know. But we’re all so desperate not to be chopped.”

Maxim stands up, his oak and berries scent and massive chest taking over my field of vision. I keep my eyes down, not trusting any other instinct right. now. Even so, his voice is violently insistent. “Who? I need to know.”

Why can’t he just keep his hands on my waist and tell me it will be okay tomorrow?

“It was Vigo okay? I found the scent bag first. He tackled me, we both fell. Irene and Briggs got the scent bag, I held back Vigo. We fought. I bust his nose, he did this…please don’t do anything stupid.”

Maxim looks away, rubbing his beard roughly. I know he’s fighting back a world of reprimands. Warnings I haven’t listened to because I wanted my friends to be safe over his listening to his experienced advice.

“Only Vigo?”

“Yes. He runs alone.”

“He won’t run at all after this,” before turning around and walking straight back out of the barn.

“WAIT! Please don’t!” setting off after him before realising I’ll cut my feet to ribbons if I don’t at least put my boots back on. Within a minute as fast as I can manage up towards the packhouse.

gging

2/4

14:55 Mon, 2 Jun M G

Chapter 22

It doesn’t take me more than a few seconds. The sound of plates smashing and screams is enough of a guide. It makes my heart scatter so wildly! stumble, my feet briefly turning to concrete outside the huge packhouse doors.

The screams keep rising, the pandemonium sounds to be charging towards me.

A tower door bursts open as both Warden Donlon and Warden Marshall appear. A huge metal truncheon swings in Warden Marshall’s white knuckled

grip.

“What the hell is going on?” Donlon asks, his one eye blazing with annoyance.

“……” wishing for the power to speak up and maybe not drop Maxi completely into trouble.

“Speak up girl!” Warden Marshall snaps, his face chewed up into a snarl.

“You’re a fucking dead man!” bellows out. We all turn towards the packhouse. Warden Donlon yanks me out of the way. A beige and tan uniform, long silvery hair tied back in a half–ponytail with bloodied fists. On top of him, an amber–eyed, brown–haired madman in a leather jacket.

The scoreboard listing every skills ranking for the day comes crashing down as one of their legs takes out its support.

“Maxim! Maxim stop! Stop please!” but Donlon restrains me.

Maxim already has a nasty cut above his eyebrow, his blue shirt ripped. “Say it again! I fucking dare you!”