Page 16 of Fated to Him

“It sometimes happens with women,” he explains. “Us born shifters go through our first shift between sixteen and eighteen.”

“And the men you bite change to wolves straight away?”

“That’s right.” He finishes dishing up the chili and turns to face me.

“And the women?”

“They mostly die.” His face is expressionless.

My stomach clenches. I’m burning up, and my skin is all prickly. Could that be what’s happening? I’m dying? “But you bit me.”

“You,” he says with an edge in his voice, “were already dying. There was one way to save you, and that was it.”

And he wasn’t happy about it. When our stare extends to uncomfortable levels, I look away.

As I pick at my chili, the rich scent of meat, herbs, and spices makes my stomach rumble.

Approximately two seconds later, I’m staring at an empty white bowl, wondering what the hell happened to the contents. Malakhi’s hand enters my line of vision, and he replaces my empty bowl with the full one.

Was he getting it for me?

“How was my famous chili?” he asks, nodding at the bowl. “It’s been a while since I’ve made it.”

I don’t know. I ate it too fast to even taste it.

I’m working out how to ask him who he made it for without him thinking I’m jealous, when the sound of approaching footsteps pulls my gaze from his.

I angle my head to face the door. As I stare at the dark wood, I know with utter certainty that a man and a woman who had sex with each other recently are headed this way.

How would I know that?

“Morgan and Teri,” Malakhi explains as if he can see right into my head and pluck my thoughts out.

Can he?

My eyes fly to his in alarm, disturbed that mind reading is one of his abilities, along with a nose that tells him all sorts of interesting things.

He’s frowning at the door.

“What is it?” I ask, lowering my spoon to the table. “Is there trouble?”

Malakhi stalks toward the door. “I left orders that no one was to bother us. Wait here.”

He pulls the door open, letting the last of the sun’s rays into the cabin, and steps out, closing it behind him. I wait, listening to his footsteps move farther away, then I get to my feet.

Time to get out of here.

I’m jogging through the forest, away from the small brown cabin I rushed out of minutes before, when footsteps up ahead make me halt. It isn’t Malakhi. His were moving in the opposite direction, which is why I came this way. Whoever is approaching is doing so at a fast jog.

As I’m debating whether I should return to the cabin, change directions, or keep going, a red-headed man in his early thirties steps out from behind a tree.

From his dark stare and predatory focus, it doesn’t take long for me to realize this man doesn’t like me.

“I’m leaving,” I tell him, hoping to cut off whatever nastiness is on its way. “So if you’ll just?—”

“He’ll go after you,” the man interrupts as he stalks toward me. “He’s convinced you're his mate, so there’s nowhere you can go where he won’t find you.”

I slowly retreat, mentally working out how I’m going to get myself out of this alive in one piece. “Not if I leave town.” I’m barefoot, and I have no idea where my bag is or how long it’ll take me to get to town, but that’s okay. Even if I have to walk for an hour, I’ll manage it.

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