Evermore by Rebecca Royce Page B

her feet and hauled her off without so much as a by your leave.
    “You smell…really amazing.” His mate had a low, husky voice. The sound made his shoulders relax. Oh yes, he was going to enjoy hearing her speak. Over and over again.
    “You do too.” He extended his hand. “Can you give me the stick?”
    Homer really didn’t want to get whacked in the face with it. The sting would be really annoying. She looked down at her hand, staring at it as though she’d never seen the stick before. “I didn’t realize I still held it.”
    “Hand it to me. Please.” With shaking fingers the beautiful woman whose scent saved his soul handed him the pathetic stick she’d used to hold off her two assailants. He nodded when he took it from her. “Thanks.”
    She blinked rapidly. “Why do you smell so…perfect?”
    Homer stiffened his spine. He had found his mate—she was pregnant—he’d killed two werewolves and now he had to explain to her why he smelled good to her. His day couldn’t have gotten any stranger.
    Before he could answer, she spoke again. “Are you my mate? My mother always said the person I was meant to be with would smell right. I never knew what she meant.”
    “I’m your mate.” Saying the words aloud when he didn’t even know her name only added to the surrealness of the whole experience.
    “I’d given up hoping.” She swayed slightly and he grabbed her arm to steady her. Heat radiated off her and worry about how ill she was flooded his veins. The woman who had given up on finding her mate and couldn’t be more than twenty five years old was sick.
    “My name is Homer Prinze. What’s yours?”
    She opened her mouth before her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she fainted, dead weight in his arms. He caught her without issue. Homer needed to find her help and fast. But he wasn’t going to get the kind of care he wanted for her in the dirty, dying city. His mate, whatever her name was, needed to come home with him.
     
    ****
     
    Camille Kendrick woke up slowly. She was hot, itchy, and her bones ached. Inside her ever-swelling belly, the baby kicked rapidly. Before she even opened her lids to find out what kind of hell she’d landed in this time, she rubbed at the hard kick of her unborn baby.
    Bad enough she’d taken up with the wrong man in desperation to eat, having his baby and running for her life had seemed the end of the line for her in terms of trouble. Only now she’d clearly fallen headfirst into something else she’d have to worry about.
    Whatever happens, I’ll keep you safe . It was the promise she made the child every morning and every evening. The tiny life inside of her hadn’t asked for any of the crap Camille had hoisted upon both of them.
    A male scent wafted over. She knew that smell. Woodsy, cinnamon, heat. Camille’s eyes flew open.
    “Easy.” The steady voice to go with the spicy scent coupled with the feel of his hand on her arm. She was rocking. What was going on?
    “You’re in my truck. We’re driving. Slower than I’d like but I need to make the gas last. Can you drink some of this water for me?” The world seemed blurry, out of focus. Hearing his tones, the way he spoke slowly, brought back the moments before she’d fainted. Two men had wanted to hurt her. She’d thought for sure she was going to end up dead in an alley, she’d failed the baby, and Derek Dresden, who wanted her dead, would have won.
    Her mate—she could hardly believe the thought—pressed a cup to her lips and she took a sip. Water. It had been so long since she’d had any fresh. “That’s right. Drink it down. Slowly. I want you hydrated so I can see what this fever is about.”
    “Thank you.” She closed her eyes. What on earth was she going to do with a mate?
    “Before you sleep again, what’s your name, precious?”
    Precious. She loved how the word sounded. She’d never been that to anyone, or at least she couldn’t remember being. How lovely he had used the