Page 25 of Tail Me


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Slowly, Mason took a step back. He didn’t want her to see him. Suddenly, he felt worse than pathetic. Trying to get her to date him after he’d already been rejected was sad enough, but pushing on with such a plan after seeing her so happy would be insanely selfish.

Mason turned and walked out of the library. It was the hardest thing he had ever done. His steps were incredibly slow, as if he struggled against the air itself. He could feel a horrible, painful cloak of misery falling over him.

He would never be whole again. She was his fated mate, and without her, he’d be forever split in two. That didn’t matter, though. It was his problem to deal with. If he loved her as much as he claimed to, he’d have to put her needs first and let her be happy.

Before he knew it, Mason was out on the street. It wasn’t as busy as the cities he was used to visiting, but the flow of people still depressed him. They all had purposes … places to be, and people to meet. He began to walk, not even really sure where he was going.

He hadn’t gone far when he saw a bar. With relief, he hurried inside. Mason went straight to the counter and ordered the strongest drink they had.

Without noticing time passing, Mason finished off the entire bottle of whiskey. When he asked for more, the bartender refused him, telling Mason he was too drunk. Instead of arguing, Mason left and wandered until he found another bar.

The pub crawl went on into the night. He never caused any trouble, but bartenders and security kept kicking him out as he consumed enough alcohol to kill a large elephant. Without realizing it, Mason went through all the decent bars in the small town until he ended up in a seedy dive.

Mason didn’t care about the place itself. He only cared that they kept serving him booze. By this point, he’d consumed a ridiculous amount of alcohol and had overwhelmed his incredibly strong shifter metabolism. He swayed on his stool as he pulled out his phone and glared at the blurry screen.

Either I dropped the phone and wrecked it, or I’m so drunk I literally can’t see straight.

Even as the letters on the screen made every effort to evade his fingertips, Mason punched out a message to Ellie. He felt awful doing it. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. The trouble was, doing nothing, saying nothing, hurt so much more.

I can’t just let her go. I have to fight for her!

With the certainty of a person completely addled with alcohol, Mason convinced himself that he was doing the right thing, and if he reached out, she would respond. Everything became incredibly simple. He told Ellie where he was, that he missed her, couldn’t wait to see her … and that he couldn’t even remember why they weren’t together.

When he hit send, Mason felt intense relief. She would respond. He just knew it. His drunken stupor assured him that she’d been miserably clinging to her phone, desperate to hear from him. The second she got the message, she would rush into his arms, and they’d be reunited.

As Mason floated on his expectant certainty, a faint curl of smoke drifted by his face. For the briefest of seconds, he heard the horrible, crackling roar of a massive fire. Not just any fire …the fire. The one that stalked his nightmares with such relentless fury, it made him run and run across the length of the world as he attempted to be free of it.

He blinked his stinging eyes, waving a hand in front of his face. There was a guy with a thick cigar next to him, and Mason forced himself to relax.

It’s not a nightmare. It’s just a fucking jerk. You’re okay.

“Hey, buddy,” Mason called, tapping the bar to get the guy’s attention. Ellie's words flashed in his mind, and instead of biting out a demand, he nicely asked, “Would you put that out?”

The big man turned around slowly. He was taller than Mason and wider. He had shoulders as thick as a pickup truck. A faint scent hiding behind the cigar smoke signaled to Mason that the man was a rhino shifter, but this didn’t matter to Mason.

“Why?” the dude asked, taking a big puff of the cigar and blowing smoke over Mason’s head.

“No smoking inside buildings in New York,” Mason said, frowning. He didn’t understand why the guy was being such a jerk about it.

“All right, chill your tits,” the big guy said, laughing.

Then he leaned over and dropped the cigar into Mason’s drink.

For a moment, Mason stared at the glass with a shifting silt of ash spreading across the deep amber liquid. He had a moment of complete and utter clarity, where rage ignited deep in his blood and set his fury flooding into his heart.

Mason leapt from his chair, swinging hard with his right fist. He connected to the big guy’s jaw just as he turned to face Mason and staggered back under the impact.

Mason charged, pushing his advantage. He wrapped his arms around the other guy and tackled him to the floor. Sitting on the big guy’s chest, he pounded him in the face over and over again.

He didn’t even feel the moment when the other guy shifted. Mason was just suddenly thrown through the air as a rhino lifted up underneath him. Mason hit the floor hard as the massive beast charged to its feet. The next thing he saw was the huge horn rushing at his face, and he rolled out of the way, knocking over a bunch of tables as he skidded across the smooth wooden boards.

As Mason sprang up, he shifted, his claws extending as he roared at the rhino. His focus had narrowed to a singular point … enemy. Other patrons of the bar who were struggling to get out of the way and the security team of the pub charging at him did not make any impact on him.

Destroy him!

Mason charged, bolting at the rhino. The massive beast bellowed and met him head-on. Mason was tangled on the rhino’s face for a brief moment, clinging to the creature’s horn. He scratched out wildly with his claws, feeling flesh tearing as blood flowed across his paws.

The rhino screamed and went down. Mason realized he’d torn open its face and completely blinded it on one side. As his body shifted back, Mason started to laugh.

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