Page 15 of Mated

“Don’t cook for you?

I snuggle up in my blanky and give him a cheeky little smile. “Don’t put clothes on.”

He is heartbreakingly beautiful when he laughs. I would never have dared imagine I would be in the company of a creature this stunning, let alone be called his mate. I feel loved. It is a feeling that isn’t quite familiar to me, and yet there’s a nostalgia to it. It’s like remembering something that never happened.

“I’m going to have to at least put on an apron,” he says.

That’s all he puts on.

I get the joy of curling up on a couch and watching my billionaire mate make me dinner. This is not how I anticipated my first day of proper work going. I can hardly believe any of it. There’s a lot of it that I am choosing not to consider.

It makes me feel a little bit insane to even think about the wolf thing. I just saw it, and I remember my experiences, though they’re getting hazier by the moment. They feel like a dream I had. This all feels like a dream I’ve had.

“Drink this.”

Cain is suddenly by my side with a glass of water in his hand. I thought I was watching him, but I suppose I’ve spent rather a long time staring into space. My body is starting to ache, sort of like a flu feeling crossed with having done far too much exercise. I’m tired.

“Stay with me,” he says, putting the cup to my lips and tipping it slightly so all I have to do is swallow. He also helps me out by putting his other hand behind my head, steadying me. I feel immensely cared for.

“Drink,” he reminds me.

I allow the water into my mouth, swallowing to please him. My eyes are on his as this happens. I am feeling so many emotions. An otherwise naked billionaire is helping me to drink as if I am a wounded little bird, and I am feeling as small and cherished as I have ever felt.

I drink the entire glass that way, until he is satisfied that I am properly hydrated.

“Good girl,” he praises me, and I wag the tail I don’t have. I can feel it, this whining yearning, this absolute supplication runningthrough my veins. I have not simply fallen for Cain Lupin. I adore him. Just looking at him feels like being on some heady drug.

I watch him as he goes back to the kitchen, and I feel yearning at even the short distance opening up between us. I want to be right next to him, pressed against him. I want to feel his hand on my head again, strong fingers scratching lightly at my scalp.

“Stay there,” he says, catching my thoughts again.

“Are you reading my mind?”

“Not exactly,” he says, going back to stir dinner. “It is more like I can feel your impulses. We’re linked now, Kira.”

“Because we had sex?”

“Because we were made for one another. We were mates before we met. That’s why the attraction was so intense. But now that we’ve mated, and our flesh has bonded, it’s stronger than ever before. It’s unbreakable.”

I stare as this incredibly handsome, incredibly rich, very powerful man tells me that I was made for him—and I can’t believe it. Nothing in my life has ever indicated that I was special in any way, or made for anybody in particular. I always thought I was made for no reason but to generally suck and suffer, and if I ever made any progress at all, it would be out of sheer luck and would probably be taken away from me as quick as it came.

I don’t tell him that, because he seems to have more than enough belief in all of this for the both of us. I sit and I stare as he serves dinner, and I try not to sound too stupid or too ungrateful or too confused as to how and why any of this is happening.

Dinner is meat and more meat. He’s added some vegetables on the side, but I notice that he doesn’t eat them, so nor do I.

“What exactly happened to me today?” I ask the question vaguely as I push a floret of broccoli around the plate. It feels like that question encapsulates so many others.

“You mean, why did you become a wolf today when you’ve spent most of your life thinking you were strange, but basically normal?”

“Yes. That.”

“Have you finished dinner?”

“I guess?” I frown slightly, I don’t know why he won’t answer that question when he’s answered so many others.

“Then it is time you went to bed,” he says.

There’s some impulse in me that wants to refuse, some very old childish thing that never really leaves us no matter how old we get. But now that my stomach is full, I am starting to feel truly exhausted.

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