Page 78 of Wanted

My eyebrows spike. “At the river?”

He nods.

A shiver runs through me as I recall the feel of his powerful body between mine as I washed his hair. It felt as if I was engaging in some sort of sacred practice. When I began drying his hair, and he pulled me into his arms for the firmest hug, there was an energy exchange between us that was incredible, yet difficult to put into words.

It left me breathless.

The stirring in my belly that’d been on a low simmer before, erupted at that moment, and hasn’t gone out yet.

“That was the moment, I knew.” He shakes his head. “No, that was the moment I accepted it,” he finishes, finger lifting my chin so I have no choice but to look at him.

“Accepted what?”

“That you’re my mate, Emery. And there’s nothing I want more than you.”

His eyes glow as he makes this statement in a calm, yet completely affirmative manner. In other words, in typical Chance fashion.

“I-I don’t know what it means to be someone’s mate,” I confess.

A wife?

A spouse?

Sure, those terms I’m familiar with. But mates feel like it has an even deeper context than how we humans treat marriage. Ms. Elsie told me a few days ago that, much of the time, wolves mate for life.

Separation is uncommon save for the death of a mate.

“You know more than you believe you do,” he says while running a hand over the top of my head.

A brief thought passes through my mind over how unkempt my hair must look. Then I remember that I’m in a cave with a naked man who can turn into a wolf. The same man who’s just told me I’m his fated mate, I think.

Thoughts of my hair fall away and suddenly I want to know everything about Chance. Starting with…

I don’t put much thought into it before I lift my hand and trace one of his earlobes with my finger. A shiver runs through his body, but he doesn’t push my hand away.

“How did it happen?”

He searches my gaze as if determining how much or what to tell me.

“I want to know about my mate,” the words fall from me naturally. As soon as they do, that stirring in my belly unfurls a bit and a sense of warm, calm falls over me.

The glimmer in Chance’s eyes that had been present, but relatively low, ignites.

“I was nine. A storm was coming in. Everyone knows during a storm, we typically find lower ground, stay away from trees, but find some sort of cover. This was long before our pack relocated here to New Mexico and had our own commune.”

I continue tracing his ear with my finger as he recounts the story.

“I defied my father, and instead of remaining inside during the storm, I went out on one of the trails. It happened before my first shift so I couldn’t run the trails in my wolf form. But I just had an urge to be outside. To see the rain up close.”

He shifts his gaze away from me, lowering it to the ground.

“When it became too intense, I forgot about my father’s warning about staying away from trees during a storm. I took cover under a large tree to shield me from the winds and pelting rain. A bolt of lightning struck the tree as I leaned against the trunk. I was struck too.”

I gasp and cover my mouth with my hand.

Chance pulls my hand from my mouth and kisses my palm, as if I’m the one who needs comfort.

He shakes his head.

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