Page 123 of Roaring Flames

Quickly, I hurry the last few feet forward and use my hip to push Jake out of the way.

“We’re not mates!” My voice is embarrassingly high-pitched.

Something in Christian’s expression shifts, like a bloated storm cloud blocking the sun.

Suspicion causes my eyes to narrow. “We’re not mates, right?” I repeat. “Because if we are, and you kept it from me, I would be very, very, very, very, very?—”

”Very,” Jake interjects pointedly.

I nod decisively. “Yes. I would be very, very, very, very, very, very?—”

”Very,” Jake interrupts again.

“Upset,” I finish.

And angry.

And stabby.

And murderous.

And…betrayed.

I have been lied to by almost every person I care about. Even my own damn social worker kept the truth from me about who I am and where I came from. Christian was one of the only people I thought I could rely on, could trust, could talk to.

His words from my eighteenth birthday play on a loop in my head.

“It means you’re mine, little human. It means you belong to the wolves.”

Christian can’t be my mate, can he? No. He’s a lone wolf, and they don’t get mates. Right?

Or is it that they don’t have a pack?

Can they have a mate but not a pack?

Why the fuck isn’t there aDummy’s Guide to Pack Politicsavailable for me to read?

My head begins to spin, and a strange, prickling heat invades my body.

A few things occur to me in rapid succession.

Christian’s interest in me.

His invitation to the barbecue.

His possessive, growled, “Mine.”

His willingness to give me answers.

“No,” I breathe, my voice taking on a hollow edge.

Panic flares to life in his eyes, and he holds both hands in the air as if attempting to fend off a rabid dog, one foaming at the mouth. “Izzy, please?—”

“Oh shit.” Jake volleys his gaze between the two of us, his blond brows nearly touching his hairline. “Is he your mate too? I was just teasing him before, but?—”

“Let me explain,” Christian pleads as the final pieces of the puzzle click together.

I don’t like the final image it creates.

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