Obsession: A Rejected Mate Shifter Romance (The Mate Games #1)(23)

“How was he able to change his appearance? I thought hunters didn’t have abilities.”

“This one had some help.” He pulled something out of the pocket of his suit jacket and held his palm out to me. In the center of his hand was an amulet, the amethyst crystal now clouded with dark smoky residue.

“Witches? Why would they do this?”

“I’m not sure. But they were most certainly after you.” He tucked the necklace back into his pocket as he casually spoke. Like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb in my lap.

“Me?”

Intense gaze trained on me, he licked his lips, and I forced myself not to squirm under his stare. I could barely breathe, but not due to pain. Father Caleb Gallagher was hungry.

“You.”

“Why would anyone want me? I’m a freak. A shifter who can’t shift. A joke.”

“We all want you.”

What did he mean by we? I needed some time to unpack what he just said, but he reached out, the gesture making me flinch away on instinct. Pain sliced through my side, and I cried out before I could stop myself.

“Dammit, I said stay still.” Caleb’s palm rested on my shoulder, pushing me to my back, pinning me there as he pulled the sheet away and lifted the edge of the white T-shirt I was wearing.

“Caleb, where’s my dress? Did you undress me?”

He wouldn’t look me in the eye. “I had to. You were covered in . . .” He swallowed and took a shuddering breath. “Blood. It was everywhere. I’m surprised Thorne stopped when he did.”

The man next to me tensed as he focused on the gauze dressing on my abdomen. Blood seeped through, and the whole area was red and inflamed, even past the bandage.

“It’s infected,” he muttered. “You should heal faster than this. He gave you his blood.”

The mention of Noah’s blood sparked a burst of flavor in my memory. Not like blood at all, but like a kaleidoscope of tastes from the most decadent wine in existence. Spice and sweetness, salt and smoke, berries and apples, all blended together. My uncontrolled moan caused Caleb to stop what he was doing and snap his focus to my eyes.

“Do not make those noises around me. We’re all sinners here.”

His warning pebbled my nipples and made me grip the sheet to keep from reaching out to brush away a stray lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead. “Sorry,” I whispered.

Fingers gently peeling away my bandage, he frowned, the concentration on his face not boding well for me. “What was on this blade?”

The wound was red and angry, and blood welled to the surface despite the neat, tiny sutures. Caleb’s hands shook as he used a clean cloth to dab the blood off my skin.

“Are you okay?” I asked. “Maybe someone else—”

“No! I will care for you. You’re a risk for the rest of them.”

My head throbbed along with the deep ache in my muscles. Honestly, I felt like shit. Like I’d been . . . well, stabbed. “Caleb, something’s wrong.”

“Of course it is. You were nearly killed.”

“No. I feel . . . I’m not sure. I think . . .” The room spun, the edges of my vision going dark before I faded into unconsciousness.





Like the first time she came to me, rumbles preceded her arrival.

"Daughter."

My consciousness shifted, solidified. Instead of floating in a sea of nothing, I stood on an empty field, rustling grass and a cloudless sky all I could see for miles in every direction. And her.

My mother.

The similarity between us was striking and unmistakable. Same chocolate hair, wide ocean-blue eyes, and identical full lips. The only true difference was in our height and build. She was slightly taller, her muscles leaner and more defined. Whereas I had more of that traditional hourglass figure. No wonder I’d never fit in with the Fallons. Where they were all flaming hair and green eyes, I looked nothing like them. I stood out like a sore thumb. Never seeing myself in anyone. Until now.

Her expression was more curious than anything remotely nurturing. As if she was studying and dissecting a foreign creature instead of reuniting with the daughter she’d abandoned. Then again, she’d sort of proven that she didn’t have a whole lot going on in the maternal department when she walked away without so much as a forwarding address or even a name.

Any affection I might have felt for the woman who’d given birth to me shriveled and died. “Two times in less than a week. Is this becoming a habit?”

It was nice to know that even though I was technically unconscious and dreaming, I still retained my favorite defense mechanism: my smart mouth. People didn’t seem to realize they’d hurt you if you’d perfected the art of sarcasm. And though she was my mother, I didn’t want to appear any more vulnerable than absolutely necessary.

Her head canted to the side, and her expression softened. It still wasn’t affectionate by a long shot, but it was certainly more understanding. In a lot of ways, she reminded me of one of those angel statutes. Not the cute little cherubs with their sweet curls and fluffy wings. The other ones. The warriors holding swords and shields, decked head to toe in armor with their eyes blazing with divine retribution.

So, in other words, my mother was mildly terrifying. And she managed all of that in a simple maroon dress and leather belt. That almost made it scarier. If she could be that intimidating in a dress, what would she be like if she had actually been battle-ready?