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Quilo shakes his head.
“You don’t understand. She’s my mate.” He stresses the word so much there can be no doubt that he’s not talking about friendships.
I’m not stupid. I know enough about the supe community to understand what he’s talking about. But I’m still confused. I’m not his mate. I can’t be. My species don’t have mates. The relationships we form are similar to humans. And they’re almost always with our own species. If Quilo is talking about mates then he must be a supe, and he certainly isn’t an elemental shifter like I am.
“That’s what I said,” Whit replies. “She’s mine. Not in some dumb caveman sense of the word. But as in she can’t be your mate because she’s my mate.”
My head whips back and forth between them as they begin to bicker and argue over who I belong to, which immediately gets my back up. I’m not theirs. I’m not anyone’s!
While they’re fighting, I climb off the couch and tentatively test my ankle. It smarts, but it’s not broken and I’m pretty sure I can walk on it enough to get the hell away from these crazies.
Dressed, I’m just reaching for the door handle when Yas interrupts their bickering with a shrill whistle and the room falls silent.
“You’re both wrong. She’s my mate.”
My head explodes. So there’s only one thing for it. I yank open the door and hobble away as fast as my busted ankle will let me.
