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see my mate,” he demanded. Sitting straight and squaring his shoulders, he tried to sound firm and unmovable, but he’d beg on his knees if he thought it would help.

“No,” Torren countered. “I have some questions for you, plus Thane is in no condition to be getting worked up right now.”

“I’ll answer your questions.” Knowing he was fighting a losing battle, Zasha slumped back into the cushions of the sofa and sighed. “I’m not going to hurt him. I just need to see him.” He’d feel a lot better if he could confirm with his own eyes that Thane was alive and resting comfortably.

That didn’t stop Thane’s oldest brother from grilling him, though. Torren Braddock asked a lot of questions, most of which Zasha had already answered for the Enforcers back in Snake River.

“You’re welcome to spend the day here,” Torren offered when he was finished with his questioning, “but Thane needs to rest now.”

A small part of him felt responsible for Thane’s condition, and guilt clawed at his gut. Had he realized what a psychotic bastard Axton really was, perhaps Thane’s suffering could have been avoided. When he remembered he’d actually befriended the vampire, had essentially led him right to his mate, bile rose up in his throat, along with the bitter taste of regret.

“I just want to see him.” He fisted his hands at his sides and swallowed the lump in his throat. “I won’t disturb him, but I need to see that he’s okay. Please?”

“Torren,” Lynk implored.

He didn’t say any more than that, but it must have done the trick because Torren pushed up from his chair and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Follow me, and I’ll show you where he’s sleeping.”

After offering his thanks to Lynk and his apologies to the witch’s mate, Kieran, Zasha hurried after the eldest Braddock, growing more nervous with each step down the corridor. After all he’d been through only to find out that the man he’d been fighting for wasn’t really his mate, Zasha held little expectations of what would happen next.

“He’s probably asleep, so try not to wake him.”

It sounded more like a warning than a request, but Zasha nodded and slipped into the room before Torren could change his mind. The door closed quietly behind him, but he didn’t move any farther into the room. A queen-sized bed was set up against the far wall, directly between two windows, and the silvery beams of moonlight that filtered through the parted curtains illuminated the man lying in the center of the mattress.

He looked pale and thin, and his cheekbones stood out in sharp relief. Even in the dim light, Zasha could make out the shadows that stretched under his sunken eyes, and the protruding collarbones broke his heart.

This close, he could finally feel the difference. The energy that saturated the air was so much stronger, and his connection to Thane felt almost tangible, as though he could reach out and thrum the metaphysical threads that bonded them together.

Thane’s face appeared freshly shaven, but his hair was still long and scraggly with a dullness that matched the rest of his depleted body. Bruises covered the tops of his shoulders, and the skin that peeked out from under the blankets was a map of claw and bite marks. Even in his malnourished and broken condition, he was the most gorgeous thing Zasha had ever seen.

That should have been his first clue. Paranormals were predisposed to be attracted to their mates. While he’d always thought Lynk was nice to look at, he’d still had the underlying disappointment that the man was really much too small and delicate, really not his preferred type at all.

There wasn’t anything delicate about Thane, though.

It was hard to estimate Thane’s true height while he was horizontal, but Zasha guessed it to be somewhere just over six feet. It wasn’t hard to see beneath the cuts, bruises, and shrunken frame to the man he used to be, not for Zasha. A clear picture of what Thane would look like once healthy flittered through his mind, and it was a delectable portrait.

“Hello.” Thane’s voice was small and wispy, barely carrying across the room, but the smile he offered transformed his entire face. “You must be Zasha.”

“I must be.” Returning the smile, he crept closer to the bed, moving cautiously so as not to frighten the man. After the ordeal he’d been through, it would be natural for him to have trust issues. “You must be Thane.”

“I must be,” Thane echoed. “Come here so I can see you.” Groaning in obvious pain, he braced his hands on the mattress and struggled to sit upright.

“Here, stop that.” Rushing forward, Zasha pressed a palm to Thane’s shoulder, holding him in place with little effort. “Let me help you. What do you need?”

“Just this.” Rolling his head to the side, he glanced at the squat bedside lamp. “Maybe some light?”

Keeping one hand on Thane’s chest, he used to the other to pull the chain on the lamp, filling their part of the room with a soft glow. “Better?” Despite his thinness, Thane was even more handsome up close, and his scent was making Zasha’s head spin.

“Tell me about yourself,” Thane insisted, though his eyelids were already drooping, and his words were slurred with exhaustion. “Where are you from?”

“I’m from the Snake River Coven.” Zasha stared down at his hand where it rested against Thane’s warm skin, smiling like an idiot when the witch covered it with his own. “We can talk later. You need to be resting.”

“You’re probably right,” Thane agreed. “Come here.” He rubbed his free hand back and forth against the mattress. A tattoo of an intricately detailed tribal dragon stretched down his bicep beneath the cuts and bruises, writhing with his movements as though alive and restless. “I’ve been missing you.”

Considering this was their first meeting, Zasha was unsure what that last part meant. Maybe Thane was confused. Perhaps he thought someone else was with him in the room.

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