Redeemed by Becca Jameson

darkness of the night. There was no Ashley. There was no sweet set of lips on his chest. Just blackness. Although he swore he could smell her lingering scent as though she’d been there.
    Oh God. He had it bad.

Chapter Eight
    Ashley’s entire body was on fire. Her heart wouldn’t stop pounding at a rate that threatened to explode out of her chest. Every cell was alive and sensitive.
    She’d uncurled from the tight ball at some point, stripped off her clothes, and climbed between the covers of the bed, hoping the cool sheets would bring her temperature down. She’d never been so hot. For years she’d been cold. She spent many nights in a damp basement or dark unfurnished spare rooms with no covers. She’d learned to wrap herself in a ball and hug her knees to her chest to stay warm.
    Even after she’d come back home, she still rarely got between the sheets. Being covered was too confining. It made her feel trapped and afraid she couldn’t get away fast enough. She always covered up with a throw blanket these days, but usually on top of the bed. Like she had tonight, before she’d started losing her mind.
    In her bra and panties, she stretched out on the mattress. Her mind provided her with only one image—Evan. She’d pictured him in many different scenarios, some imagined, some real. She couldn’t shake him from her head. And she couldn’t sleep either.
    Her bra felt too tight, her nipples abrading against the cups. She tried to ignore it but eventually unclasped the confining lingerie and tossed it aside.
    Well, that didn’t help. Now her breasts rubbed the sheets. She set her hands across her belly in attempt to tent the cotton away from her chest.
    Her nipples pebbled anyway, as though she were cold instead of burning up.
    Maybe she had a fever.
    Or maybe it was true what they said— once a shifter meets their mate, there is no turning back .
    She groaned. No. No no no. She wasn’t ready for this. She didn’t think she’d ever be ready. But certainly not now. She wasn’t whole. She wouldn’t wish that on another being.
    When a tingling started in her pussy, she spread her legs a few inches, hoping if she didn’t rub them together, her clit wouldn’t demand attention.
    Again. All useless wishfulness.
    Breathe . Eyes wide, she stared at the ceiling.
    Evan Harmon. He was a big guy. And he was a PI. Maybe he could keep her safe if she gave him a chance. Or maybe she’d drag him down her path of destruction, endangering his life by having met her.
    Ashley squeezed her eyes shut against the pain she felt, for herself and for everyone around her. The stress of her burden seemed insurmountable in the dark.
    And here she lay, for the next six hours at least, trying to keep anything from touching her skin and torturing her with the contact.
    •●•
    Ashley leaned back in the armchair she’d chosen in her parents’ basement den. She pulled her knees up to her chest in her usual stance.
    She didn’t move any more than necessary, but she let her gaze follow Evan as he wandered around the room admiring her mother’s collection of porcelain angels.
    It would have been comical and she would have laughed outright at his feigned interest, had she not been so terrified.
    Brunch had been fine. Pleasant. Okay, maybe passible is a better way to put it.
    Her parents had made small talk and she’d learned a lot about Evan and his work, where he lived, how long he’d been there, what his hobbies were…
    Now they’d been banished to the den to “get to know each other.”
    Suddenly he turned and leaned against the far wall, crossing his legs at the ankles and his arms across his chest. He narrowed his gaze at her. “I’m sorry. I know you’re uncomfortable. I want you to know I didn’t plan this.”
    In a way he had. He could have kept this secret to himself forever, taken it to the grave.
    She realized that was unfair, but under the circumstances she wasn’t feeling generous.
    She swallowed and licked her