Mate. The word stayed in my mind, echoing through me.

Even after he had showed me to a room on the second floor and I had climbed into the bed, needing to get some much needed sleep. All the revelations were still forefront in my mind keeping my thoughts to busy to allow my body to rest.

I knew what he said was true, even if it sounded like something out of fantasy novel.

I was restless, not being able to drop off to sleep again. I beat the pillow and tossed and turned to find a position I could sleep in. Eventually I sat up and my gaze went other door. Maverick. My connection to him was something I had never experienced before, it was warm, making me feel fuzzy inside yet drawn to him in a way I still couldn't wrap my mind around or even understand.

I expelled a breath. What I was contemplating was crazy. Just as crazy as being told I was a werewolf. There was nothing normal about this whole situation. I slid my legs out of the bed. I released a breath. My eyes fixed on the door.

Feeling agitated I stood and paced, fighting what felt instinctual. My attention went to the door and where it would lead me. The internal argument of whether the action I was considering was a good idea or not was inconsequential. What worried me the most was it was so unlike me. I didn't need anyone but that didn't apply to Maverick, the asshole and my mate.

I stopped to stare at the door, determined to fight the urge no matter what it cost me. But the strength of what I felt won over any reasoning.

I was angry with myself and my inability to stay firm and unmoving. I released a heavy breath knowing I would give in before I stepped in the direction of the door.

Slowly, I left the room. What I was looking for wasn't something I could explain but there was no stopping me.

There was no logic to standing outside his bedroom door knowing he was inside when I didn't even know the layout of the house or anything like that. There was no way I could know which door led to his bedroom but I did.

I waited, unable to bring myself to knock.

The door opened. Maverick stood, bare chested, wearing only sweatpants.

I couldn't stop my eyes from drinking him in. He was strikingly handsome and the sight of him nearly naked took my breath away. He was ripped, either a sign of good genes or a sign he worked out regularly. I wanted to reach out and touch him, run my hands across his hard abs but I stopped myself.

I lifted my eyes to meet his. Our eyes held.

He didn't ask questions, instead he stepped back and allowed me to enter his room before closing the door behind me.

He went back to his bed and got in. He lay on his back with his one hand behind his head. I moved to the opposite side and lifted the covers as I got in beside him.

"This means nothing," I whispered. Needing to hold onto some sort of independence when I felt like it was slipping away. "And don't even think of making any moves."

He chuckled. "I wouldn't dream of it."

I huffed and turned my back on him. I barely knew the man beside me in the bed but there was a pull to him that overrode everything else. It was crazy, I was crazy.

But no matter how illogical the situation was I was in the bed with a guy I had hated not that long ago.

The room was quiet and dark. I closed my eyes and wished for sleep but I couldn't seem to fall asleep. I turned to face him. His eyes were closed and I watched the steady rise and fall of his chest in the moonlit night.

I was drawn to him, the need to touch him felt like the same need as the air I breathed, like the heart that beat to keep me alive. A part of me, that I needed to live.

"Sleep Victoria," he said softly.

"If I could I would already be doing that," I retorted, fighting against what I felt for him. "You think I want to spend the entire evening watching you sleep."

He turned to face me but I dared not move, too scared of the control I would lose. I could see a whisper of smile on his face.

He reached out a hand to me. I studied his action, unsure of whether it was a good idea or not.

"It will help," he assured me.

I frowned. How on earth could he know that?

"How do you know that?" I asked, refusing to give into the need to touch him.

"Can't you just trust me?" He sounded frustrated.

"You are asking me to trust you, after everything you did to me. Do I need to list everything so you remember? You seem to have a short memory."

He sighed. "I haven't forgotten." The sound of sadness in his voice prickled my conscience, making me feel uncharacteristically guilty.

"Do you do that often?" I asked, liking the sound of his voice and how it made me feel. It gave me a sense of security that felt foreign to me.

"Do what?"

"Kidnap girls off the street."

"You're my first."

I stared at his hand. His fingers thin and long. I swallowed.

"We've never had a female rogue in our territory before."

That bit of information peaked my interest.

"Why?"

"Most girls are part of packs and are usually mated."

I frowned, unsure if I liked to hear that. It made them sound submissive and without choice. And reminded me of my lack of control over my own situation. I should have left, and gotten as far away as I could but instead I was literally in bed with the enemy unable to explain my strange actions.

"That sounds pretty sexist." I felt compelled to express.

"That's a very narrow-minded statement to make when you know nothing about our world."

My frown deepened. The truth of his statement stung. Was I jumping to conclusions before I knew all the facts?

"Why don't you know anything Victoria? Where is your family?"

I kept my lips pressed together. I wasn't ready to share that no one had wanted me and I had grown up in an orphanage, alone, without any family. There was no way for me to know if my parents were still even around or if I had any siblings.

The need to know more about my family wasn't something that had been important to me. Why wonder about someone who hadn't wanted me. I had been discarded, effectively given away without any thought to how it would impact on me.

The life I had lived had been hard. No one had cared, no one.

And here I was attached to a guy that had treated me terribly, no matter what reason he was using to excuse his behavior.

"I don't have family," I stated firmly.

There would be no more questions about the biological people who had made me. They were faceless strangers that I couldn't even pick out in line up. I hadn't mattered to them, therefore they didn't matter to me.

I was the only person I had been able to trust and depend on.

Maverick sighed, bringing my attention back to the man in the bed beside me.

"That's where you're wrong. I'm your family Victoria."

It made no sense but it felt right.

"I've always been alone," I revealed without realizing.

"You aren't alone now. I'm here."

His hand was still open to me and I found myself staring at it. Then I did the unthinkable. I reached a hand out to tentatively touch my fingers to his. The warmth that seeped into me made me sigh.

"I told you," he murmured as his touch took affect.

It was addictive and took everything to retract my hand from his and cut the peaceful warmth that had been spreading from his touch through me.

I was still a prisoner, but not in the physical sense. It was him, a connection to him that kept me from leaving. It was another kind of prison, one I didn't know how to escape.