Page 30 of Brandon’s Mate

She’d actually found Brandon, after all these years. He was as gorgeous and maddening and sexy and elusive as ever. He was trouble in so many ways, and all she could feel was the bone-deep desire to turn the car around right now and drive back to him.

Because despite everything she’d tried to tell herself, she was just as much in love with him as ever. More, even.

Mate, her wolf whispered. True mate.

Kitty froze, feeling like someone had just thrown a bucket of cold water over her.

No way.

Her wolf said, It is so.

Those three words dropped into her heart like pebbles into a deep pool, sending ripples through her soul.

She’d always known, on some level, but now that her wolf had recognized it, there was no denying the bond.

Brandon was it for her. Neither her or her wolf would ever want anyone else.

The problem was, there was no telling what Brandon wanted. Or what his panther wanted. When he kissed her, she’d felt that dark, churning energy that was his panther in a rage, and it had seemed like that was its permanent condition now.

Something had happened, three years ago, and whatever it was, the damage had never healed. A lot of panthers didn’t ever have a true mate bond, and a damaged panther was even less likely to feel it.

Add her Monster Wolf to the equation—a maverick homicidal mutant wolf that probably didn’t love anyone or anything—and it was a recipe for heartbreak.

No, not just heartbreak. Full-on destruction.

What the hell was she supposed to do now?

Protect him, her wolf said again.

Okay, she could do that. That was what she came for, and what she wanted more than anything to do.

But she couldn’t do it right now. She needed to get hold of herself, and he needed some time to himself. She knew Brandon, and being cornered always made him push back.

She had to be like water dripping on a rock—gentle but relentless.

Right. She’d probably lose her temper with him in about five minutes. But all she could do was try.

At least she didn’t have that horrible feeling in her stomach that meant he was in imminent danger. He’d probably be all right without her for a few hours.

But she totally needed her backup.

She picked up her phone and texted Remy.

For fuck’s sake, aren’t you here YET?

There was a short pause, and then a reply came in.

We’re coming as fast as we can. What, you think we can fly or something?

Idiot. She texted:

You *can* fly, moron.

Remy:

Well, yeah. But not faster than Colt is driving. I am a superman only in the bedroom.

She didn’t reply to that. She just couldn’t even.