Page 10 of Burned By My Mate

Twisted Oak is asmall town.We don’t get a lot of crime here, and what little trouble we do get usually traces back toRed Fog.A group of lawless shifters who live outside of town, stirring up problems when they get too close.

The fact that thetracks led in their directionmakes my stomach knot. They don’t usually go after strangers, though. So why Emerson?

I rub my temple, trying to piece it together, but my thoughts scatter when I hearsoft footstepsbehind me.

I turn, and my beargoes still.

Emerson stands in the doorway,barefoot and half-asleep, her red hair a tangled mess, wearing nothing but one of my T-shirts that barely skims her thighs.

My grip tightens on my coffee mug.

Shepauseswhen she sees me, blinking like she forgot where she was for a second. Then shesniffs the air.

“…Is that bacon?”

I smirk, setting a plate on the counter. “And eggs. Coffee’s ready too.”

She hesitates, like she doesn’t want to admit she’s grateful, but her stomach betrays herwith a low growl.

My smirk widens, and she glares at me, muttering something under her breath before grabbing a cup of coffee and plopping down at the counter. I slide a plate toward her.

“Eat.”

She eyes me warily. “Are you always this bossy?”

“Yes.”

She rolls her eyes, but she digs into the eggs anyway. I watch as shetakes the first bite—her lashes flutter slightly, her lips parting just a little.

I grip my coffee mugtighter and force myself to look away, taking a slow breath before sitting down next to her.

“So,” I say, trying to distract myself. “What’s your plan?”

She sighs, chewing slowly. “Figure out my next steps. Find a place to live, or at least stay.”

Her voice iscalm, but I don’t miss the slighttensionin her shoulders.

She’s trying to be strong, but she’s scared. Worried. She’salone.

And it’s killing me.

I lean forward, my forearms resting on the counter.

“You can stay here,” I tell her.

“Not long term.”

“Yes, long term.”

“Logan,” she sighs, and I bite back my bossy response.

“Before you do anything, we need to talk,” I say quietly.

I need to tell her about my bear. I need to tell her about shifters, and fated mates, and the mating bond.

She frowns. “About?”

I hesitate. How much do I tell her right now?

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