Page 7 of Forced Knocked-Up Mate

“He’s an alpha?”

“Yeah. He just mated and married my best friend a short time ago. She moved over there with their son.”

“He’s got a kid?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I gotta get over there. I’ve been looking for him, and I think he’s been looking for me.”

“Yeah, he has,” I murmur a bit wistfully. I don’t really want him to leave.

“So, you know all about wolves, then?” he asks. “You won’t freak out if I shift in front of you?”

“No, it’s cool. My best friend is a wolf, too. I’m a witch.”

He scoffs a little. “I didn’t think witches were real.”

“Well, you’re looking right at one.”

Looking awfully hard, too.

A warm rush floods through my belly, rising until it makes red spots on my cheeks.He’s checking me out!

Silence falls between us, and for an instant, it’s as if only the two of us are real. The sounds of the world waking up fade away, and all that exists is Peter and me.

“How did I know to come here?” Peter asks, looking at his hands. “My wolf must have taken over in my sleep and run all the way here. But why?”

I’m puzzled, but only for a split second. Suddenly, everything comes back to me. My spell, my desperate call into the ether.

A man just like Rider…

Fuck!

He’s sitting right where I threw the rose stem. The anchor point for the spell.

Fuck, what have I done?

“I…” I shake my head a bit, gulping down my shame. I have to tell him something, I just don’t know what.

I can’t explain about the spell. Obviously, it went wrong, and I’m to blame. I’m not telling some random guy that I cast a love spell because I was lonely and ended up summoning the twin brother of my best friend’s husband!

“Maybe we should go inside,” I suggest. “And just talk for a bit.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t like this at all. I don’t even know you.”

“Oh,” I answer, startled. “I’m Lucy. Sorry, I didn’t introduce myself before.”

“Yeah, because that makes all the difference!” he barks, turning his angry gaze on me. “Now that I know your name, everything is just totally fucking fine.”

“I’m sorry—”

“I wish I could be, but I didn’t do anything except wake up here!” Peter says, his voice rising. “I didn’t even bring my clothes with me, and I need that trench coat!”

I have to gulp down a torrent of words. I desperately want to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but I don’t want to admit that it was mine, either.

I don’t want him to hate me.

Why? Does it even matter? You don’t know this guy.

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