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Not before we discuss the bigger issue. The one that goes way beyond dating.
“How long have you thought I’m your mate?” Attempting to make the moment more casual, I pluck a perfect cherry tomato from the platter and pop it into my mouth.
“I’ve known since I heard your voice. I was fairly certain when I saw your picture. And I’ve had a sensation in my chest since the first time Rosetta mentioned your name.”
The tomato feels like a rock stuck in my throat. I pull my hand from his and beat my fist against my chest, choking the tomato down. “You’re kidding about the ‘since you heard my name’ part.”
His gaze stays on my face as he makes a slight headshake. “I’ll never lie to you, and I wasn’t exaggerating.”
“Did Ro know about all this ‘mate’ stuff when she arranged for me to stay here?”
The dark-brown fur of his face makes blushing impossible, but the set of his mouth seems like an equivalent. “The accommodations were my idea. My offer of guest bedrooms to any of her family who could attend the wedding was sincere, but I was motivated by more than a sense of friendship or goodwill. I wanted you here. And no, I didn’t tell her you’re my mate at the time. Not until after you and I spoke on the phone. When I mentioned it to her after that, she suggested having you stay with a female friend instead of me.”
“Why did she change her mind? And then change it back, obviously, since I’m staying here.”
“She knows the intensity and permanence of a mate bond. She doesn’t want you to get hurt emotionally, but agreed to let you stay at my house because she trusts me to take care of you.” He grips the back of his neck and massages it with his big hand. “And because I pleaded with her.”
My eyes go wide at that little truth nugget. “You pleaded with her? That’s pretty intense, you know. Like, red-flag intense.” My heart’s thumping a mad beat against my ribs and I swear the temperature in the room just rose five degrees. “Why am I not seeing red flags?”
“Because you feel our mate bond, even if your conscious mind hasn’t accepted it yet.” What should be a ballsy statement holds no cockiness whatsoever. It doesn’t sound irrational, either.
Maybe the magical aspect of this town is affecting my ability to think logically.
“I can tell you’re unsettled,” he says. “What can I do to ease your mind?”
“I’m not sure that’s possible with everything I’m trying to digest.” I smooth my hand over my forehead and crown, then slide my fist down my damp braid with a subtle tug, attempting to snap myself out of whatever this is. It doesn’t work. The feelings, wild as they are, refuse to be broken. “Okay, explain to me how you’re so sure I’m the one.”
“I just know. That’s how it is with Minotaurs. But that’s not the real question you want answered, is it. You want to know why you think I might be right.” He’s so calm, seemingly at complete ease with this conversation.
“Maybe,” I hedge.
Smiling, he offers me his hand, palm up.
I don’t hesitate. Placing mine on his is automatic, and I gasp the instant we touch. His hand is warm, firm, soft. The sensation of his fingers closing around mine is electric, but also soothing. My body temperature rises with each second of contact, but it’s not just arousal. It’s lightness, comfort, excitement, and calm, all at once. More than a physical response. There’s a connection.
The amber of his eyes shines brighter than before. “You feel it.”
“I feel something, but I already knew I felt something for you. I’m not seeing a ‘this is your mate’ banner light up in my head. Is that how it is for you?”
The soft lighting casts a shimmer on his dark hair as his body shifts while silently chuckling. “There’s no flashing banner. Nothing that literal or tangible.”
I give him the single-raised-eyebrow expression. “You’re suggesting I should embrace the woo-woo?”
This time, his chuckle is audible. Deep. Super sexy. “If that’s the same as relax and be open to possibilities instead of searching for answers, then, yes.”
“The woo-woo, like I said. Totally my parents’ schtick; it’s just never been mine.” A smile tugs at my lips, then I exhale and let my eyelids flutter closed. “Okay, here goes.” Taking a deep breath through my nose pulls his scent into my lungs, my head. Earthy, masculine, virile. Warmth flows through me like a gently rippling wave. My skin tingles and a soft, golden glow brightens the insides of my closed eyelids. It’s like being immersed in pure energy. And he’s there. Not as a picture in my mind, as a presence. I feel like I could touch him…
“You’re reaching for me.”
“No, I’m not,” I say, opening my eyes. “See? I haven’t moved.”
“You heard that?”
“Of course I did. I had my eyes closed, not my ears.”
“You wouldn’t have heard it with your ears, Natalie. I didn’t say the words out loud.”
“Bullshit.” I yank my hand back to clap it over my mouth. “Sorry, that’s probably offensive because of your, um, heritage. God, saying that probably made it worse.”
