Imeandered through the indie bookstore, keeping out of eyeshot so Emma wouldn’t know I had followed her. My mate had shopped at several stores. The entire time, she wore a little smile on her face and lookedtooapproachable. Men eyed her and considered approaching her. My mood worsened each time, and I imagined tearing their heads from their shoulders.
I stayed close to Emma so I could watch over her. When she walked down one aisle, I followed on the other, peeking at her through the gaps in the shelves. Despite being able to spot me, my mate remained captivated by the books, unaware of my presence. Emma trailed her fingers over the spines. I cocked my head as she smiled and picked one up. She stopped walking, and so did I. After plucking a book from the shelf, I pretended to read a page.
After several moments, she began glancing around, her eyes widening like she’d just seen a ghost. She breathed faster, and I figured she was experiencing paranoia. It happened to her every now and again while out in public—even though she took antipsychotics that were supposed to help this symptom. However, she proved to be the smart girl I knew she was by using her coping mechanisms to avoid dwelling on those thoughts, and she resumed reading her book.
My demon raised his head in my mind, and a low growl rumbled from him.“He’s looking at her.”
My eyebrows furrowed as I shifted my attention away from Emma, scanning the area for any possible onlookers. Shelving the book, I strode toward the end of the aisle. I shoved past an older woman blocking the way, taking up almost all the room like the waste of space she was. A malicious smile crept to my face at her gasp when my shoulder collided with her. She whirled toward me, glaring at my back as I walked away.
“Asshole,” she muttered, thinking I didn’t hear her.
I let it slide and surveyed the room, searching for the man my demon warned me about. After leaving the aisle, I spotted a repulsive man at the end of Emma’s section. He stood there, peeking at her from the corner of his eye as he held a magazine in his meaty hands. He attempted to conceal the bald spot in the middle of his head by combing his greasy brown hair over it. I had to hold myself back and not snap his neck when he licked his lips and shifted his weight from one leg to the other. He widened his legs and pathetically tried to hide the small bulge in his pants. His eyes showed eagerness and indecision as he looked toward Emma. He was about to approach her.
I’d hoped to continue to watch Emma from afar so she had the space she needed, but I couldn’t allow some human filth to think he had a chance with her. I brushed past him and made my way toward Emma, who was lost in her own world. She stood in the same spot and read a page to herself, completely unaware of my presence. Her plump lips silently moved as she mouthed what she read. I approached her and trailed my hand down her spine, stopping just above the rise of her backside. Emma gasped and whipped her head up as she retreated from me. She stopped as her gaze landed on me, her eyes wide with shock. I didn’t miss the perfume of her arousal that intermingled with her scent of blood oranges and flowers.
“Ms. Hayes,” I said, and stepped closer to her with my palm on her lower back.
“Mr. Volkov,” she blurted. I watched as she pressed the open book to her chest, her pulse fluttering in her neck. “What are you doing here?”
As I leaned down, my hair slipped past my shoulder and brushed against hers. My lips were a centimeter away from the tiny shell of her ear. She leaned into me, her breath hitching, and I wondered if she realized she was seeking my touch. It had to do with the mating bond between us. Somewhere in her subconscious, she remembered me and our relationship.
“Looking for something,” I murmured. “And it seems someone had set their eyes on you, too.”
Emma’s nose bumped mine as she turned her face toward me, and our lips touched for a moment. “What do you mean?” she whispered.
Our warm breaths mingled, and her eyelashes fluttered as she shifted her weight from one leg to the other. I dug my fingertips into her jacket on her lower back, wishing it was her skin I touched.
The man who’d been watching her muttered a curse and walked away. I smiled, satisfied that the message was received. Emma was mine.
“Are you through?” I asked, ignoring her question.
She stepped away from my touch and faced me. Her freckled cheeks were stained a pretty pink, and I longed to trace each one with my finger. I used to hate how flustered she got around me, but now I reveled in it.
“I just got here.” She frowned. “You’re not supposed to be here, sir. I’m Christmas shopping, and I don’t want you seeing what I get for you.”
Now it was my turn to frown. “You aren’t getting me anything.”
“Yes, I am,” she said with a huff before turning away.
I followed her and went to her side, slipping my hands into my pockets. “Ms. Hayes, I want nothing from you, so don’t waste your money.”
If I wanted anything from her, it was for her to remember everything about us.
Emma stopped and whipped around to face me with tears in her eyes. My gut clenched, and my demon snarled in my head, stretching within his confines as he attempted to rise to the surface.
“You fucking fool!”he roared.
I held him back and stared at Emma. If she paid attention, she would have seen my eyes widening by a fraction before I recovered and put up an ice wall. I kept my stoic composure, not allowing her to see my inner struggle.
“Sir, with all due respect, I want to gift you presents because you deserve them. Did your family call you on your birthday? No. I never saw you talk to anyone who wasn’t related to work,” she whisper-yelled.
I blinked.
Emma swiped away the angry tears and sniffed. She stomped her foot and fisted her hands at her sides before she continued on her adorable angry tantrum. “So you’re, you’re going to, going to accept the gifts from me.”
She turned around and walked all of two steps from me before whirling around to face me with a glare that wasn’t the least bit intimidating. If anything, it looked like a tiny mouse trying to look scary to the cat who toyed with her between its paws.
“And we’re going to decorate your home, too,” she said. Her voice cracked, and I felt that in my soul. Emma’s pain became mine, but I refused to show her that. She glared at me with tear-filled eyes, her lips drawn into a thin line that I wanted to pull out with my teeth.
