Beaufort Creek Shifters (10 book series)
The Alpha’s Forced Mate Chapter 17

Blake

High-definition monitors lined the wall above the desk. The chair beneath me barely made a sound as I rolled toward a computer, shaking the mouse to reveal the new camera angles on the screen. One pointed at a second-floor veranda and the other focused on the door of a suite in the west wing.

The door opened and then shut immediately. Veronica appeared on the screen. Her eyes shifted across the hallway with a practiced suspicion, shoulders tensed up and knuckles whitened from gripping her phone. My word was solid-I hadn't violated her privacy by placing cameras in her room.

But I was tempted to do it now.

"Are you sure it was the right place?" Jermaine asked. He swiveled to face me, his expression dark and reflective. "It could have been a coincidence."

I flattened my lips into a line. It was hard to talk about this. Yet it was more important than anything. "I saw it, Jermaine. The scar was in the right place. It looked recent."

"If that's true, then I need to have Imelda make me a few weapons like that."

"Ask Regina. She's the one who did the enchantment."

He frowned, lines digging into the youthful features that typically held a professional expression. "I don't trust witches."

"Yet you want an enchanted dagger."

"Hey, this isn't about me. This is about your mate trying to kill you."

I forcibly exhaled. "She's not my mate. We haven't performed the ritual."

"But she's supposed to be."

He was right. This was a deeply challenging issue that I knew didn't have a clear answer.

Which was why I needed Jermaine. "What do you think?"

His eyebrows popped into his hairline. "About what specifically?"

"All of it."

"It's a lot to handle."

I nodded.

He sighed while scooting next to me, taking control of the mouse. He flipped through a few cameras that captured Veronica's movements. She was heading toward the library again. She liked spending time there. "She doesn't look like an assassin," he said. "But that's probably what they were counting on."

"Who?"

He shrugged. "Raymond Gilbert is bloodthirsty. He probably just wants to take you down so he can claim your pack for himself." Posted by Narugi.com

"But why? He doesn't have any ties to this pack other than business."

"I suppose we could have tortured the guy who tried to kill you."

My stomach flipped. "We didn't know he was from the Gilbert Pack." "You gave clear orders, Blake. You wanted him dead."

"That's pack rules. My father would have done it, just like his father."

He nodded. "I understand. I'm not questioning your decision."

"I should have waited. I should have tried to get the whole picture." I slammed my fist into the desk. "If my mother hadn't pressured me, then I would have been able to discover all this before the trials began." "Your mother isn't to blame."

I snarled while launching from the chair. The security room was large but not big enough to contain my anger and disappointment. About a thousand different emotions were slashing me to pieces. I wasn't sure which one of them would win. Anger seemed the most persistent.

"She shouldn't have pushed me," I said through gritted teeth. "I should have challenged her. I should have pushed back."

My eyes found Veronica without even knowing which screen she would be on. The library-that was the one on the far right.

"She looks so pretty when she's concentrating."

Jermaine folded his hands on his lap. "Want me to leave you alone?"

"No, I need your feedback on what to do."

"I don't know how much I can help, Blake. This is your decision."

I growled. "And you're my best friend."

He sighed while scrubbing his face. Five years had been added to his features in a matter of minutes. That was what this job did to him. How much more pressure could he handle? It wasn't like we were teenagers trying to Goonies our way out of a secret cave system anymore. This was real life. This was real danger.

I stroked my scalp thoughtfully. "I'm sorry. I'm freaking out."

"I understand."

"I know. It's just..." I gestured to the screen. "What's she looking at? Can you zoom in?"

He nodded and tapped a few keys on the keyboard. Within seconds, we had a clear view of the documents in her hands. Jermaine and I shared a sigh.

"Blueprints," we said.

I folded my arms and stared at the other books nearby-mostly history and maps of the surrounding area.

"She's trying to replace a way out," I said. "Do you think she'll make another attempt?"

"That depends."

I frowned. "On what?"

"On her motives, Blake."

"I can't tell what she's thinking."

That was a bold lie and I knew it. Her energy told me exactly what she was thinking. Every time we encountered each other, she resisted my influence and invited it at the same time. As dizzying as it was, it enticed me. It made me want to control her. It made me want to take care of her.

I scratched my cheek while bowing forward. "I thought you would kill her on the spot when I told you."

"If that's the case, then why did you tell me?"

"Because I trust you, Jermaine."

His chocolate eyes met my gaze and held it for a long time. A quiet understanding formed between us that spoke of years spent exploring local beaches, building model train sets, and wrestling in the mud. Just a few seconds put us on the same page. Unlike my connection with Veronica.

"She's confusing," I told him. "I don't know what to do."

"Do you love her?"

The question smacked me harder than an offended nun who caught me cursing in a church. What did love have to do with it? I knew I cared about her, but I couldn't fathom much more than that. All I could do was feel.

I closed my eyes. "Maybe."

"I can work with what you're telling me, but I have to admit, Blake, this is a huge security issue."

"I know."

He inhaled sharply. "It's a risk to everyone, including you."

"I know, Jermaine."

"If you don't love her, I can-"

I scowled. "I know."

He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I'm just saying."

"I need your advice, okay? That's all I'm asking. Just tell me what to do."

"I've never seen you like this. You must really care about her."

What was I supposed to say to that? The closer I got to Veronica, the more I wanted her in my life, regardless of how much she'd pushed me away. Whatever I thought I knew about my feelings was rust at this point-dried rust that caked my joints and made it impossible to move.

If this was love, then what was the point of the mate bond?

And if she was my mate, then how the hell was she supposed to protect me from being killed?

"Watch her closely," I instructed. "Report her movements back to me."

"What are you going to do?"

I shook my head as I headed for the exit. "I have no idea."

***

The last rays of sun flickered over the edge of the field while I sipped a whiskey sour on the porch. Trees rose in the distance, swaying with a breeze that brought humid air tinted with salt. My nostrils flared as I turned to observe the dining hall window. Veronica would be in there soon. I would have to face her, knowing that she was the one who had tried to kill me.

How could I have been so wrong? At the time of the attack, I'd thought it was a man assaulting me. The way she moved, the way she sliced that weapon through the air, gave me the impression of a man who had spent his entire life training for that moment. Is that what Raymond did? My fingers tightened around the Steuben glass. Did he tear her from her family just to turn her into a vicious killer?

Livid with the idea and trembling with irritation, I returned to the rear den where I set the Steuben aside for the housekeeper to grab. Walking to the dining hall seemed to be my only other option, even though I desperately wanted to hide in the west wing on the third floor.

Maybe lifting weights would take my mind off everything. There was enough whiskey in my system to hide the strain it would cause my muscles. Then I could shift and take a long run through the woods that led toward the beach. It would clear my mind enough to think.

But I wasn't sure if I wanted to think about anything right now.

The moment I stepped into the dining hall, the scent of powdered roses slithered into my awareness. How could I have been so naive? That was the same aroma that had lingered in my room during the attack. It was her all along-yet I'd refused to see through my rose-colored glasses to notice the killer beneath.

She put on such a good performance. Maybe that was her plan all along.

Veronica stood near the end of the table with her hand resting on the back of her chair. She wore a maxi dress made of the same yellow that reflected in her eyes, with radiant specks of purple woven throughout the fabric. It wasn't dinner formal, but it wasn't her usual outfit either.

Was she trying to impress me? Entice me? Seduce me?

"Good evening," I greeted while taking my place. "Thanks for joining me."

"Of course."

She sounded like a frightened mouse. More of her performance, or was she truly feeling the pressure of her situation?

Because this was her situation. I hadn't held anything back from her this entire time. While the trials were largely meaningless to me, they had led to me colliding with her. And that was one thing I didn't dare regret.

Killer or not, we had bonded in that den. We had fused together in that library. Other hookups couldn't hold a candle to the way she received me. That had to be real.

Out of everything, I wanted that to be real.

Once our meals were set in front of us, we ate in silence. Every so often, I glanced at her out of my peripheral vision, noticing the way the utensils shook in her hands. She was nervous about something. Did she know she'd been caught? Or was she feeling regret about her actions?

It was hard to tell.

"This is good," she whispered. "I like the baked fish."

I lowered my gaze. "Yeah, it's great."

"Blake?"

I looked at her, noticing the puffiness around her eyes. My agitation flew out the window the moment I noticed her discontent. "What's wrong, Nica?"

Her plump lips parted and exposed her tongue, a million unanswered questions sitting in the space that separated us. Emotions swirled in every direction. Hope, fear, fury, and pain became a massive storm that threatened to destroy my home. Was she going to tell me the truth? Or was she going to try

She snapped her mouth shut and stared at her plate.

I frowned and reached for her hand. "Veronica, what's wrong?"

"I don't know."

escape?

"You can talk to me about anything." I urged her to look at me, nearly failing until she gave in and turned to me. Her eyes held such a heart-wrenching sorrow. She had to be telling the truth now. "Literally anything. I won't judge you."

She forced a smile. "But you would."

"What are you hiding?"

She blanched. "I don't know what you mean."

If I addressed her directly, she might bolt. But if I didn't, then she would keep sulking in private-or on the cameras that I had strategically placed around the estate to watch her every move. Was it worth my private reality show just to see whether or not she felt remorse?

My gods, how deranged had I become about her?

She licked her lips slowly and then sighed. "I don't feel well. I want to go to bed."

My heart beat furiously in my chest at her lack of admission. While standing, I took her hand in mine, gently guiding her to the door. If she wanted to rest, then she could rest. I wasn't going to force her to do anything.

But if she acted to try to take my life again, I would have to take matters into my own hands.

I clutched her hand as we ascended the stairs. Can I do it? Can I take her life when she tries to take mine?

Panic shocked my system. It had never quite occurred to me before that I might have to end her life just to save mine. Was it worth it to lose her touch? Or was it better that we would no longer exist on the same plane? I had already lost my father. I didn't want to lose anyone else.

We reached the second floor and turned right for the west wing. As soon as her door came into view, I released her hand. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Could you tuck me into bed?"

Temping. So tempting.

But likely a ruse to get me out of view of these cameras. How much did she know about the security setup in the mansion? Had she done her research before arriving or did she snoop around when she thought everyone was asleep? I shook my head. "No, I'm tired myself. I should get to bed."

She nodded solemnly and reached for the handle. A few seconds turned into a few hours of watching her leave my presence. And it hurt more than anything I had ever experienced.

Not because she was retreating. But because I knew those seconds counted down the minutes before I lost her.

And there was nothing I could do to stop it from happening.

If she tried to escape, Jermaine would capture her. We would still have to deal with her being a trained assassin. If she made another attempt on my life, then she would be killed on the spot. Or worse, tortured until she gave up whatever information we wanted. I don't do torture. That was my grandfather's business, I thought. I'm not a monster. I'm a leader. I'm an alpha.

Veronica turned around. She leaned against the frame while biting her lower lip. That lustful flush on her cheeks was enough to lure me in. I stole one kiss. And then another. And then I kept kissing her until I didn't care about my safety anymore. Because it didn't matter. Nothing mattered in a world where I couldn't have Veronica Gilbert.