Page 11 of Heir

I glanced down my body again. “Because I hate clothes.”

The door shut again. More whispering.

“Is this some kind of sick fucking joke?” my mate asked.

“Do you stay in human form all the time?” I asked. “Do you like clothes?”

“Human form? I am a human, you lunatic. Go away. Gemma is already calling the cops.”

This was not at all how I anticipated our first meeting to go. I figured by now we’d be on a bed of soft leaves and grass, consummating our union.

“Did you not get hit by lightning?” I asked, growing more desperate as time ticked by.

“I did. How do you know that?”

“Because so did I. It means we are Fated Mates. It means you have come of age. You are twenty-two, are you not? Also, happy birthday.”

“What the fuck does that all mean? And it’s not my fucking birthday, you pantsless psycho.”

It wasn’t her birthday? That was strange. “I am your Fated Mate. We are meant to be together. The Fates have divined it.”

“You’re talking a lot of fucking garbage mumbo jumbo for a man who knocked on my door looking like fucking Pooh Bear.”

“What is an obviously deranged and needs to be taken for a seventy-two-hour psych hold,” my mate’s friend said. “He has no pants, and he’s talking about you two being destined to be together. And your birthday isn’t until October. Definitely a 51-50 situation.”

“You watch too many police procedurals,” my mate scolded. “He’s also talking about getting struck by lightning too. Maybe . . .”

“Maybe what? We let that nutjob into our home? He’s clearly off his meds. He needs help.”

“We have mace. Go get the taser and the switchblade.”

“You’re just as crazy as he is for suggesting this.” But my mate’s friend stomped away, returning a second later. “He is massive. I doubt the blade will stop him from killing us, you know.”

“Yeah, but the taser might give us enough time to run away.”

“Why do I let you talk me into this shit?”

“I’m going to open the door again,” my mate said. “You stay with your bare ass up against the wall, understand?”

“Okay.”

“Move so much as a fucking muscle and I’ll spray you and we’ll call the cops.”

“Okay.”

The door creaked open again and some kind of fabric was tossed at me. “Put those on too.”

I glanced at the heap of gray on the floor and made a face, then glanced back up into the green eyes of my mate. “You told me not to move.”

She rolled those beautiful eyes and scoffed. “Put them on, smartass.”

I did as I was told. They were way too small for me.

Men’s large gray sweatpants, and they clung to my lower half like stretchy ladies’ yoga pants. They cropped at my calves too. “Better?” I asked.

“Barely.” But she opened the door. “What do you want?”

Holy fuck. She was gorgeous. Even if she wasn’t my mate, I’d have found her to be the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on. And I’ve lived for centuries. Along with fire and stubbornness, her moss-green eyes held so much wisdom. I knew that I’d never stop learning from her. She had a hoop nose ring on the right side, tight, dark curls, and a slender, but beautiful face with a light brown complexion.

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