Page 38 of Her Fake Mate

It doesn’t feel like this is real. There’s a kind of surreal energy around me, and I feel… warm. Really warm. Hot, even. Maybe I’m getting sick?

Shifters almost never get sick, but there are some shifter specific illnesses. Do I have a fever? I should check…

“Mia,” Zander rumbles. He leans forward and takes my hand. “Do you want to be my mate?”

“I…”

Why? How? Those are the questions I want to ask. That I need to ask.

I gulp. “I don’t understand.”

He smiles, a full smile, and it tugs at my stomach. “When I first met you, I was an asshole.”

“I really don’t see why that’s?—”

“You let me know it.”

I huff out a sigh of frustration. “Zander. This isn’t important, and I’m sorry if I was mean…”

His fingers, pressed gently to my lips, keep me from talking. “My parents loved each other. So much that it was kind of gross.”

I freeze.

“They always told me that I’d know right away when I met my mate. That if you know, you know. When I first met you, I didn’t know because I couldn’t see around everything that was in my way. I didn’t think I could ever have a mate like you.”

My heart clenches. “A fox?”

“No, Mia. Someone smart. So smart that I’m humbled by you every day. Someone like you, who is so kind that every single person around them feels better after they talk to you. Someone who is so resilient that they inspire everyone, including me.” His voice is barely a whisper, but I swear I can feel it echo from the mountains around us.

“I didn’t think I’d ever find someone who was so beautiful, every time I saw them, I got nervous,” he whispers.

I blush then. “You get nervous around me?”

“Every single time.”

“Zander…”

He presses my fingers to his lips. The heat of his kiss spreads through me, making me feel terribly hot again.

“Mia,” he whispers. “Would you please do me the honor of being my mate… for real?”

The air between us looks like it’s shimmering. I blink, thinking maybe there are tears in my eyes, but then something between us brightens.

Like really, really brightens.

I gasp as my chest feels like something is pulled out of it. I lean forward, resting my hand on Zander’s chest. He grunts, then uses his hand to tip my face up to his.

“I really hope your answer is yes,” he says, his voice thick with emotion, “because I think we might be fated mates.”

I gasp.

That’s what this is. The heat. The connection. The glow.

Zander and I are fated mates.

I close my eyes, and I let the tears leak out.

“Oh, no. Please don’t say you’re crying because you don’t want to be my mate,” he begs.

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