“Don’t,” he said, his voice low. “Don’t try to send me away. You’ve held your shit together well, and maybe you’re truly not shaken by what happened earlier. But I still don’t want you to be alone right now.”
In truth, Havana was a little shaken. Not because she’d been shot, but because she’d almost died. It had all happened so damn fast that she hadn’t really processed that she’d been shot—the darkness swallowed her before she had the chance to realize that she was going to die. And it didn’t help to know that danger still lurked in the shadows and could again reach for her at any moment. Still … “I won’t fall apart.”
“It wouldn’t make you weak if you did. And although you probably won’t have an emotional crash, I’d still rather you weren’t alone. I want you to know you have someone here with you. I want you to feel as safe as you possibly can.”
Havana could see he meant it. He wasn’t just spouting whatever might make her agree to let him stay. He was genuinely concerned and wanted to be close by. It was important to him that she didn’t feel unsteady or alone. And it galled her that it touched her, just as it galled her that he did make her feel safe—he always had.
If he’d tried to boss her into letting him stay, she could have stood firm against it. She could have ordered him out without a qualm. But whenever this big, strong, badass Alpha male went all sweet on her … her defenses just went poof. “Look, I get that—”
“No, you don’t get what’s happening here. Not yet. But you will once we’ve talked. That can wait until after you’ve showered.”
“Once we’ve talked? Talked about what?”
His fingertips dug into her nape as he massaged the muscle there. “There’s a lot I need to explain. A lot you need to know.”
“So tell me.”
“I’ll lay it all out for you once you’ve done what you’re desperate to do, which is to wash the day away. What I have to say can wait.”
“Just tell me this: is it something bad?”
He traced the shell of her ear with his finger. “No, nothing bad. Things have changed for me. In a good way. I swear, I’ll explain everything soon. First, shower.”
Havana crushed the hope that tried to blossom in her stomach. She wasn’t going to let her thoughts run away with her. She knew better than to allow that.
She also knew better than to let him hang out in her bedroom. This was not him giving her space. But she didn’t want to throw him out. She wanted to hear what he had to say. If she sent him away, she’d spend the rest of the day wondering what he would have said.
Havana sighed. “All right. Wait here.” She kicked off her shoes and padded into the en suite bathroom … and realized he was following her.
She turned, about to order him out. But the words got trapped in her throat when he whipped off his shirt. Damn, the guy had muscle to burn. And, Jesus, those abs were just perfection. Then there was the spectacularly defined V of his hips …
He was far hotter than any man had a right to be. She didn’t think the sheer impact of all that deliciousness would ever ease up. Not ever.
She was so busy ogling him that she didn’t snap out of it until he gathered the edges of her stained tee. She gripped his arms, thinking it would not be good for them to be naked together. “Wait, you—”
“I’m not going to try to fuck you. I just want to take care of you. Let me,” he said, his voice low—an order couched as a request. He slowly peeled off her tee and dropped it on the floor. And although she told herself she should put a stop to this, she didn’t protest when he removed the rest of her clothes, or when he finished undressing. Nor did she protest when he herded her into the shower, soaped her down, and washed her hair.
He was so careful with her. Tender, even. Each touch was so soothing and reverent it made her throat burn.
Once they were out of the shower, he looped a towel around his waist and then wrapped another around Havana. He gently patted her dry with the soft, plush towel. There was nothing sensual or provocative about it, but her hormones were still a hot mess. Knowing, feeling, he was hard only made her so much more aware of his every touch, his every breath, his every move.
When he ushered her into the bedroom, she expected him to try his luck getting her into bed—which would have gotten him booted out of the room. He didn’t try anything, though. He pulled on his clothes while she dragged on underwear, a racerback tank, and yoga pants. He then sat her between his thighs on the end of the bed and carefully brushed the tangles out of her wet hair. It was … nice. Relaxing. Intimate. And utterly out of character for him.
They’d showered together before, but he’d never … ministered to her like that. Never made her the center of his entire focus as he washed and dried her. Her devil kind of liked it, but the ever-moody animal still gave him the stink eye just because.
Placing her brush on the bed, he snaked his arms around her waist and tucked his chin in the crook of her neck. “You good?”
“I’m good.”
“Hungry?”
A little, but … “You said there are things you need to explain to me.”
“Right.” He lifted her, spun her to face him, and set her on his lap to straddle him—all of which he did with a casual strength that made her toes curl. He smoothed his hand up her arm, over the curve of her shoulder, and up to her neck. “Could have lost you today. You’re thinking you’re not mine to lose.” Still cupping her neck, he tugged her face closer to his. “You’re wrong.”
Tensing, Havana frowned. “What?”
“When I heard you’d been shot, it rocked me. Sent my inner world fucking spiraling. My emotions were all over the place, and my mind was a mess. Then my mental shields came crashing down, and I had to admit to myself what I’d been consciously unable to face until now. You’re my mate, Havana.”
She did a slow blink, unsure she’d heard him right. “You’re … I don’t … Wait, what?”
He stroked his hand over her hair. “You’re my mate. My true mate. My everything.”
She tilted her head, studying him closely. “You don’t look high.”
His mouth twitched. “That would be because I’m not.”
“Tate, you aren’t thinking clearly. Maybe this whole drive-by thing sent your overprotective nature into overdrive—”
“Yeah, it did. I haven’t felt rage like that in a long time. I forgot how much it chokes you. How it squeezes your chest and rips at your insides. It fucked with my head for a while. I might have found some calm, but I’m feeling pretty hyper-protective right now.”
“And when that wears off—”
“I’ll still be telling you that I know we’re mates,” he finished.
Her heart beating like crazy, Havana shook her head. “You’re not thinking clearly. You’re … I don’t know, I don’t get why you’d think we’re mates.” And yet, the words felt … right, somehow.
“I don’t think it, I know it.” Tate smoothed a hand up her back. He could understand why she was confused and conflicted, but for him, it was the opposite. He’d been restless for days, but he felt calmer now that he’d faced the truth. Everything seemed a lot clearer when she was there. Like she eased the chaos in his mind. “I told you my mother was killed by a rogue shifter, right?”