I blink open my eyes, the smell of pine and musk filling my senses. I stare directly into steel blue ones, encased in long, dark curling lashes, gazing down at me. Large, calloused hands comb through my hair, untangling the knots, causing the nerve endings of my scalp to come alive and my core to throb, as my head, now resting on his lap, his solid legs my pillow, lolls to the side.

FUCK, I passed out AGAIN!

His long fingers are still deep in my hair, massaging my scalp, when a voice, his voice, enters my brain, making me flinch. Moving my focus to his mouth, I watch my stranger, My Wolf, his lips not moving as he repeats the words over and over again, <You're safe, I won't hurt you, Doe, not your fault.>

Heart rate increasing, he moves his hand to my face, his index finger trailing down from my forehead to my nose before resting on my mouth and tracing my lips. <So beautiful.>

Still, there's no movement from his mouth. How can I hear him, am I going mad, and what's not my fault?

<Not mad Doe Eyes, we're one now, our minds are linked, my MATE! Your changing can be challenging.>

The intensity of his gaze bores into mine, and I'm flooded with unfamiliar emotions, not of my own. The feeling of joy, acceptance, lust, wholeness. What, what is going on?

"Be calm, mate, breathe. There's nothing wrong with you. You can feel me as I can feel you. We're one now Doe." His gravelly voice fills the room, this time speaking through his mouth, his fingers tracing gentle patterns across my face.

"I don't. I don't understand?"

"You will, in time," he smiles, making a purr-like sound that rumbles from his chest, "I have waited so long for this, for us." Happiness travels through my body, once again, not my own emotion, but his.

Moving, pushing myself into a sitting position, our bodies still wedged together so that I'm facing him, I tentatively reach out, the tips of my fingers hovering just inches from his handsome face.

Understanding my hesitation, purr growing, he moves his head closer, giving permission, and I touch him, mesmerized by his rugged masculine features. His face is perfectly symmetrical, dark scruff covering his plump upper lip and chin. "How?" How did you survive? How, what are you? Guilt starts overtaking happiness, this emotion 100% mine.

"No guilt, Doe," he replies, nudging my fingers to continue their exploration, "I told you, I'm different, we're different, and now you know."

My Wolf!

<Your Wolf,> his unspoken words fill my mind.

"How, I don't?"

Wrapping his hand around my wrist and drawing my fingers to his lips, he lays a gentle kiss on the tips, then releases them before standing up and moving away.

"First we eat, then we talk."

How caveman of you!

Smirking, he turns and makes his way to the kitchen, taking his unique smell with him, and only now am I hit with the scent of meat cooking. Pot roast?

Inhaling the delicious aromas, I take the time to admire his muscular physique.

Broad shoulders, naked, long torso, a trailing of marks or scars covering the flesh, and down to his lower half, covered by dark lounge pants resting just about a taut ass.

<You like what you see, Doe?>

That inside voice again, I don't know if I'll ever get used to it.

Blushing, I shift my gaze to focus on the kitchen around him. Among the wood and marble, there are stainless steel appliances everywhere. A dishwasher, farmhouse sink, a three-door refrigerator, and a double oven, with an eight burner stove, a massive cast iron pot, sitting on the middle burner which he stirs then removes, setting it on a wooden board before taking the meat out to carve. "You can cook?"

"One must know how to cook if one needs to eat." He chuckles, taking out two dark blue plates from one of the many cupboards, putting them on the marble bench, and starts portioning the meat and vegetables into two servings. Turning, he then moves to the double refrigerator and takes out a glass carafe filled with a clear liquid.

Setting out a tray, he puts our meals on it and starts walking back towards the lounge and putting it on a table in front of me. Taking in the delicious smells, I move closer to the food, my mouth watering and tummy rumbling as he turns and heads back into the kitchen, opening yet another cupboard pulling out additional items, and then returning with two glasses and the clear fluid.

Pouring one, he passes it to me. I take a sniff of the transparent substance and my nose wrinkles at the non acidic smell. <It's water, Doe.>

"You don't have anything stronger?" I frown. I need wine!!

<No, you need water. Wine isn't good for you, drink.> His mind commands, a slight growl in his tone as I raise the glass to my lips and pour the cool, clean liquid down my throat, which is surprisingly refreshing as I drain the whole thing. I didn't realize how thirsty I was.

Taking my empty glass from my hands, he refills it and sets it next to the plates filled with the browned meat, potatoes, carrots, and other assorted vegetables and motions for me to eat.

Moving towards the table, I lift one of the plates, pick up a knife and fork, and cut a small portion off the meat, raising it to my mouth. I groan. The flavors are intense as my taste buds dance to the thick texture.

<You like? Rabbit, caught fresh today on my hunt while you slept.>

Oh, the rabbit! Images of the headless bunny sitting on my porch at the cabin enter my mind.

<My gift, I hunt, you eat, helps you get strong.>

Still unsettled by his internal communication, I snap. "Can you please use your words rather than whatever it is you're doing in my head?"

I feel slightly guilty for speaking so harshly to him. My mind is all over the place, and I'm conflicted over eating Thumper while drooling over its fantastic taste.

"I'm not too good with words when my Wolf is so close to the surface. My thoughts are easier," he replies sheepishly, taking a mouthful of the rabbit.

How can such a massive man be so timid with words?

"I don't see a lot of people to use them with."

"And stop listening to my thoughts! Actually, stay out of my head, period!" I grumble, a feeling of shame and confusion washing over me. I know I've hurt his feelings.

"Sorry," I apologize, not wanting to make this any more awkward than it already is. "I'm just not used to it, any of it, I thought, I thought you were-" Remorse and guilt flood my emotions when I think back to the accident. I struggle to finish my sentence.

"I'm not gone, Doe. I'm here. I'm sorry for making you sad."

Taking another mouthful, I take the time to compose myself before continuing, "How? Actually, scrap that, who are you? I don't even know your name."

Smiling, he tilts his head. "You know who I am, Doe."

"No, I mean, what's your real name?"

"Ava Louise Hughes, my birth name is Griffin," his smile widening, white teeth flashing, his face lighting up, "Griffin Lorcan O'Connell, and I. Am. Yours."

Shifting, I deposit the plate back on the table and stare at him. "And that's another thing, what's with all this mate business, and you know, you being a wolf, My Wolf," I whisper the last part to myself, afraid that if anyone heard me say those words out loud, they would think I was crazy, which is ridiculous in itself. We're in the middle of fucking nowhere. Who would hear me!

"Finish eating your meal, then we can talk."

Not liking his caveman attitude, I stand up and stomp my feet, propping my hands on my hips like a toddler, chucking a tantrum.

Setting his plate down beside mine, he reaches out for my hands and tugs me back down beside him, tiny electric pulses traveling through my body at the contact.

Moving my hands to rest over his heart, he sighs, "You know that I'm not like the other men, you know, I'm... Different. My family, my ancestors, are known as Faoladh."

"It's the Gaelic word for werewolf." He continues when he sees my look of confusion. "We, my ancestors, immigrated here centuries ago from our homeland and have been on the Spur ever since."

I look at my hands, resting over his muscled chest, his heart beating steadily beneath, and shake my head. Werewolf, oh, if Erin could hear this, she would shoot me herself for how ridiculous this sounds.

<Not ridiculous,> He growls inside my mind, my head snapping back to his face where his eyes are glowing an iridescent shade of yellow.

"I'm sorry," I cringe, lowering my eyes, his face softening, a sense of calm flowing through me as he purrs again. "Are you doing that?" I ask, drunk off the feeling of peace.

"Yes, it's one of our abilities to be able to share emotions with our mates."

"Mate, I still don't understand?" He moves his hand from mine, raising it to his head, and draws his long brown locks away from his shoulder, revealing his neck and the two red puncture wounds that are embedded in his skin.

Moving my fingers, I trace the two small holes, remembering the evening before and my teeth sinking into his flesh. "How?"

"I marked you," he explains, his fingers moving to trace over my scars, "chose you, and now you have marked me, accepting me as your mate and completing the bond."

Remembering my session with Angela, I gape. "The accident, that's when you first bit me?"

"Yes." His hands moved to my face drawing me close, his lips only inches from mine, "I saved you."