Page 111 of Roaring Flames

“It’s the mate bond,” he murmurs gruffly, frowning. “It makes us…well… It’s in your DNA to trust us and vice versa.”

My nose wrinkles. “I really don’t like the sound of that.”

“You can leave if you want to,” Reid tells me. “But I have something to show you.”

“Is it a dead body?”

“Um…no?” Reid gives me a strange look. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

My lips tick up before I force them into a straight line. “I really should say no and turn around.”

Isn’t that the truth.

“But?” Reid arches one eyebrow.

A strand of greasy red hair falls forward, and he pushes it away impatiently.

“But I meant what I said before. I trust you—whether it’s because of this damn mate bond or not.” I shudder. “Seriously, this thing is creepy. Isn’t there a way to remove it or something?”

Once again, Reid’s expression turns unreadable, though his eyes flash with a myriad of emotions. “You want to remove the mate bond?”

“I thought that was what we all wanted?” I ask, confused.

He opens and closes his mouth, frowns, and then shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. His jaw clenches. “Yeah. Remove it.”

“But I am curious what you want to show me,” I confess. “You know what they say—curiosity killed the cat.”

“Are you comparing yourself to a cat now?”

I shrug. “Maybe I am. After all, Iamsurrounded by meat-headed wolves.”

“I never knew meathead could be an adjective.”

“Shut up.” I grab the helmet out of his hands and slip it on.

It instantly makes me feel unbalanced, like I have five hundred pounds on my shoulders.

Reid watches me struggle with amusement sparkling in his hazel eyes.

Once again, I say, “Shut up,” and push past him towards the bike. Then something occurs to me, and I spin towards him. “Where are your helmet and jacket?”

The amusement fizzles out of Reid’s eyes. He shrugs, an eloquent, one-shouldered gesture that almost makes words unnecessary. “Don’t need one.”

“I know you’re a badass wolf shifter and all, but I’m pretty sure your brain can still go splat.”

He lets out a breath, as if all of my comments are irritating him. Well, good.

“Come on.” He swings a leg over the bike.

“But…”

“Izzy.” His tone holds a note of warning.

Grumbling under my breath about stupid, idiotic, impulsive wolf shifters, I settle on the bike directly behind him. I have no idea where to put my arms or legs. The last thing I want to do is be flush against him, but I also don’t want to take a tumble off the motorcycle either.

Fortunately, I don’t have to ponder this question for long.

With sure movements, Reid grabs my knees and forces me forward until the front of my chest is against his back and my knees are on the outside of his thighs. My hands instinctively move around his torso until they’re clutching the shirt over his stomach. He gives my hands a squeeze, and fireflies flutter to life in my belly.