Read My Mate's Embrace Online

Authors: Caryn Moya Block

My Mate's Embrace (3 page)

“No, please don’t hurt me . . . please . . . ” Laurel woke up with a start. She had been dreaming that she needed to get away. She couldn't move her legs and realized she lay wrapped in blankets and held in strong arms. Panicking and caught in the aftermath of the dream, she jerked back and promptly fell off the cot. Laurel sat there a moment, shivering, already missing Anton’s warmth. Had she really slept in his arms last night? He snored softly, and Laurel wanted to laugh hysterically. What was she doing? She looked around the small wooden structure. The light seeping into the small window assured her that a new day had begun. A table and chair sat in one corner. A wooden box sat next to the stone fireplace. Anton now occupied the canvas cot.

Who was this man, besides her real-life hero? Nothing should be taken for granted, not even this man. Laurel had learned that lesson the hard way with her stepfather. He had never lifted a hand against her while her mother lived. But after she died, he started drinking, and the abuse began. Though he was always sorry the next day, that didn't stop him from going out drinking again. No, Laurel couldn't allow herself to depend on anyone, not even Anton.

She tried to move her legs and loosen the blankets. But they didn't seem to be coming free. Anton muttered, and she stilled, not wanting to wake him up. The golden cord of light that attached her heart to his glowed softly. What was it, again? She batted at it, but her hand passed through it. She wondered if Anton could see it, as she did. Or could she see it because of her gift of healing? Either way, they were tied together at the heart.

Suddenly, she seemed to travel through the cord and fall into Anton's mind. She could see his memories of last night and his terror of losing her. She saw his twin sister and his older brother. Then, there were wolves, lots of different wolves. She remembered the wolf on the path behind her. Did it belong to Anton?

Then, a memory appeared of a woman, with gray eyes and long silver hair. Laurel somehow knew this was Anton's mother. She shimmered, like a rainbow, surrounded by sparks of light. When the light faded away a beautiful gray wolf stood in her place. Laurel's breath caught. Anton was a werewolf? But that didn't feel right. His love for his family and friends appeared strong. He didn't seem like a monster from a movie. But what was he exactly?

She searched his recollections some more and found only memories that pointed to a good and honorable man. He had helped the police catch a drug dealer, and he had helped his pack members at every turn. He had followed her up a mountain through a rainstorm because he sensed her fear and wanted to help her and protect her. His anger at her stepfather burned low, like an ember waiting for air to make it burst into full flame. He abhorred violence against woman and children. All these things were clear to see in his mind. He actually was a real-life hero. Did she dare trust him? Was this the protector her mother’s spirit had told her about?

Laurel pulled her consciousness from Anton's memories. He had told her he possessed abilities like hers. He hadn’t lied to her. Laurel hoped that she would get a chance to see him shift into a wolf. She wanted to see that shimmering rainbow light with her own eyes.

She sat looking at Anton. Thank goodness he had stumbled upon her trail. Her mother had promised her a protector, and her stepfather wouldn't dare touch her with a werewolf as her friend.

Anton awoke instantly. Laurel was anxious. He could feel her emotion coming through their mating bond. He turned, finding her on the floor beside him, her auburn hair curled around her face and down her back. Her blue eyes widened, as she looked up at him.

“What is it,
milaya moya?
What is wrong?”

She cocked her head to the side. “What does that mean,
milaya moya
?” she asked.

“It means ‘my sweet.’ But you didn't answer the question.”

“I woke up from a bad dream, that’s all. I am finally free of my stepfather, and I found you,” she said, color blooming on her face and just as suddenly gone.

“Are you hungry? Anton asked. “I found some crackers and jam last night.” Laurel looked so fragile, her skin as pale as porcelain, except for a spattering of freckles across her cheeks.

“I guess I could eat. I don't normally eat breakfast.”

Anton sat up carefully, trying not to startle her. Laurel stiffened. She was a skittish little thing. But with her history, which he had discovered last night during their bonding, she had a right to be. He got up slowly and reached for the overalls he’d left out.

“I laid out your clothes to dry,” he said. “Hopefully, you will find something dry enough for you to wear.”

Anton kept his back to her as he slipped on the overalls. It hurt him to find her so skittish, but he understood why. Now, he would have to build her trust in him. When he finished putting the overalls on, he turned. Laurel still sat where he’d left her, her face averted. When she saw how short the overalls were, she giggled, her hand quickly covering her mouth, her eyes crinkling in amusement. Anton let the pure tone of her laughter sweep over him. He would pay money to hear that sound again.

“A little short aren't they?” she asked, pointing at his hairy legs below the cuffs.

Anton laughed with her. “Yes, but they will do the job,” he said.

Using the cot to balance herself, Laurel got up and hopped around like an inchworm. Anton smiled and grabbed her around the waist when she was about to topple over. He noticed her flinch at his quick movements and felt his anger at her stepfather rise again.

“Here, let me help you. I didn't realize I wrapped the blankets so tight.”

Laurel tried not to flinch, but couldn't quite help it. In her mind, she realized Anton wouldn't hurt her, but her body still lived in fear. He spoke to her gently and helped her loosen the blankets. His touch, feather light, helped Laurel start to relax. He chuckled when she yelped and grabbed the blankets, before they could fall open, exposing her nudity.

“Why don't I go outside for a while? Call me when you are done getting dressed.”

“Okay, thanks,” she said.

Laurel watched as Anton removed the chair from the door and stepped outside into the sunshine. He closed the door gently behind him. She reached for her clothes and found them almost completely dry. Though her jeans were still slightly damp, and the knees still caked with mud, she put them on anyway. She reached into her backpack and found her mother's silver hairbrush, which she quickly used to tame some of her curls. Then, she put the rest of her clothes and her passport back in the backpack and zipped it up.

The sky was a vibrant blue and birds were singing. Anton looked around the outside of the hut, but didn't see any sign of anyone. The road Kolya and Alena would take to get to the cabin was about half a mile down the mountain on this side. He figured they would arrive sometime in the afternoon. Hopefully, they would think to bring food with them. He wanted to see Laurel eat. There was no outhouse, so Anton stepped into the forest to take care of business. He didn’t want to embarrass Laurel further, but he didn’t want to leave her alone for long either.

He didn't have long to wait. He returned to the hut and was leaning against the side, when Laurel walked outside and twirled around. She was wearing a pair of dirty jeans and a pink T-shirt that hugged her curves. Her canvas shoes were brown and still bore smudges of mud.

“Isn't it a beautiful day?” she asked.

“Yes” was all Anton could think to say, his mouth suddenly dry.

The sunshine in Laurel's hair turned it a deep red, making it look aflame. Her curls framed her pixie-like features, and the smile on her face was open and warm. With sunshine in her hair, she looked like a fairy in an old children’s story. Anton could gaze at her forever. Suddenly shy, he walked up to her.

“Laurel, you are so beautiful. May I kiss you?”

“You want to kiss me?” she asked in amazement.

“It would give me great pleasure.”

“Okay, if you want to . . . ”

“I do,” he assured her.

Anton slowly lowered his mouth to hers, keeping his hands at his sides. He tasted her, kissing her gently, then pulled back. Laurel had never kissed a man before, and with the abuse in her past, he would have to move slowly. He raised his head to look down into her eyes and felt himself falling under her spell. She belonged to him, his mate.

Powerful emotions washed over Anton like a wave and his body grew hard, demanding he cement the mating bond into place. But he wanted to give her tenderness, and intuitively knew he would have to let Laurel come to him. She had been hurt. He wanted her happiness and trust. He wanted to give her so much pleasure that she would forget anything bad ever happened to her. But until she was ready, he would have to wait. At least the mating bond would help him. Sexual desire was often a side effect of bonding.

The slightly dazed look in her eyes pleased him. She had enjoyed his kiss.

Chapter Three

 

Laurel touched her fingers to her lips. She had had no idea that kissing a man could be so enjoyable. She looked up to find Anton’s eyes on her. His gaze branded her, consumed her. But underneath his hunger was tenderness. He really cared. Laurel took the knowledge deep into her heart and held it there. It had been two long years since someone had cared for her. The feelings washing over her were overwhelming. Tears came to her eyes, but she blinked them away, not wanting Anton to see.

“I'll get those crackers, and you can eat,” he said.

Anton went into the hut and came out with a tin of crackers and a small jar of berry jam.

“Let's find a spot in the sun to eat. I'll get one of the blankets,” she offered.

Laurel went in and grabbed a blanket, then rushed back out. She wanted to have a picnic. When she was young, she and her mother often picnicked in the yard, or during winter, in front of the fireplace, one of her favorite things to do. It was a beautiful day and she was finally free.

Laurel skipped and hummed as she wandered down the mountain. She was free. Free to start a new life, free to have fun. To her left, a small trickle of water could be heard, so she headed in that direction. Anton followed with the blanket and foodstuffs. Laurel walked around a large boulder and found a small stream running down the mountainside.

“This looks like a nice spot,” she said.

Anton dutifully laid out the blanket and sat down slowly. It touched her heart to know he was trying so hard not to startle her. Laurel sat down, but scooted as far away as the blanket allowed. She couldn’t manage letting him close, even though they had shared the same air and had touched each other’s lips. She frowned, frustrated at herself.

Anton decided to stay quiet. She was as timid as a wild deer, and he would have to coax her to trust him. He opened the jar of berry jam and then the tin of crackers. He broke off a piece and dipped it into the jam before he handed it to Laurel.

“I'm sorry I don't have a knife, but dipping the crackers seems to work,” he said.

Laurel reached out tentatively and took the cracker gently from his hand. Anton picked up another piece, dipped it and popped it into his mouth. He smiled his encouragement and dipped and held out another piece for Laurel. Soon she seemed more relaxed and accepted the pieces he handed her with ease. Anton began to make sure she ate two pieces to his one. His little mate needed to eat and be strong. He feared her healing ability was what kept her from becoming ill from lack of nourishment. Last night had exhausted her, physically as well as emotionally. He slipped another piece into her hand. Once he managed to get her back to the pack village, she would be fed nourishing meals to help her regain her strength. Anton knew his mother, Yelena, would help with that.

Anton continued to feed Laurel until all the crackers and berry jam were gone.

“I'm sorry,
Milaya moya
, but that is the last piece,” he said.

“Oh, that's okay. I'm stuffed anyway. I think I'll take off my shoes and splash a bit in the water,” she said, reaching for her laces.

“You are an American, yes?” he asked. “How is it you are here in Siberia?”

“My mother and I followed my stepfather from job to job at different mining operations here. Before my mother remarried, we lived in Virginia. My mother's mother is still there in Culpeper. It's a small town.

“What about schooling?” he asked.

“My mother home-schooled me. I was able to get my high school diploma when I turned sixteen. That first year after my mother died, I lived with my grandmother. She helped me finish my courses. But she got sick that summer, and my stepfather brought me back to Siberia with him. I didn't really want to leave my grandmother, but he insisted. I've been here ever since.”

“When did your stepfather start abusing you?” Anton asked quietly.

“Right after he got settled at his first job on returning to Siberia. I didn't know he had been drinking during that year I spent with Grandma. It started with a slap one night when he arrived home late. I let his dinner get cold, and he didn't like it. He’d never hit me before. I started making excuses for him. I thought if I tried harder, he would be happy with me.”

“But there was more?”

“Yes, it got progressively worse. That's how I realized I could heal myself. One night he didn't stop hitting me. I was lying on the floor. He passed out on the couch. I was dying, and I welcomed it. I drifted into a place of quiet and peace, then I felt a flash of heat and warmth steal over me. I woke up several hours later, and I was completely healed. When he woke up, I hid in my room. He left and didn't come back for three days. I had nowhere to go, and I didn't know anyone to tell. When he returned, he was sober, and he stayed that way for several months. But it happened again. I realized then that I would have to get away. I had tried once before, but he sent the police after me. I was a minor, and they gave me back to him. I didn't speak enough Russian to make them understand that he was beating me. When I heal myself, there are no scars or bruises. The evidence is gone . . . ”

“So you waited until you were eighteen to run again?”

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