Page 75 of Knot His Type

“When my chemists started comparing the differences between natural mate bonds and forced mate bonds, they noticed several differences,” Sebastian began. For a minute, I wondered if he had ever been a scholar. He seemed to slide into that smug, know-it-all skin all too easily. “There were a few things. The first is that the bond will wear off after they make the bond permanent, but not before.”

“And you damned well know I already know this,” I spat. It was the whole reason I was drinking away my sorrows in the first place.

“Those weren’t the only differences,” Sebastian continued, waving away my comment. “The heats don't last long after a while. A natural mate bond, the witches still go into heat for their mates for centuries - having heats that can last days and even weeks.”

I saw Claire writhing in need beneath me, my knot securely inside her.

“Pregnancy isn’t as easily achieved with an arranged or forced bond,” Sebastian continued. “It can take many heats before the witch conceives, much to the dismay of those who are abducting these witches.

“Then there are the little fundamental things. The bond itself is just, well, weak.”

I reached for my beer bottle, twisting it in my hand. All this talk of mate bonds was making me ache for Claire. I wished Sebastian would find someone else to bother.

“When a warlock is force bonded with a witch, there’s no emotional connection at all,” Sebastian said, his eyes boring into mine. “That’s the way most of these warlocks want it. After all, why would they want to feel their mate’s emotions? They want her to be a broodmare, so why would they care?”

My body ran hot and cold all at once.

“What are you saying, Sebastian?”

“Only true mates can feel what their mate is feeling. A warlock whose bond was forced on him could never feel his witch feeling sad or happy or in danger. Jack, they are expendable. They’re not mates in the truest sense of the word. They’re merely a tool.

“Very few humans become emotionally attached to their Craftsman drills. No warlock who is forced into a bond with a witch via these drugs forms an emotional attachment to the witch. Face it, Beaumont. No matter how it happened, Claire Landon was always going to be your mate.”

My heart was racing. Nausea gripped my stomach as my mind sparked with excitement. I wanted to pound my fist against the table and proclaim that I’d finally found her. Tell the world that I’d always had her. At the same time, I wanted to cover my face in shame at how I’d treated this woman for years.

Claire Landon was my mate. And I was hers.

And I’d hurt her because I’d been too stupid to fucking realize it.

“Go get your mate, Beaumont. Before it’s too late.”

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