Page 9 of Burned By My Mate

“You don’t have a family?” he asks, his voice quieter now.

I shake my head. “Not anymore. Just me.”

Something shifts in his expression. He looks at medifferently now.Less like the woman he accused of arson and more like…

I don’t know.

But it makes my stomach flip.

He nods. “You’re not alone anymore.”

I freeze.

The way he says it—it’s not justa statement.It’s a promise, and for some insane reason,I believe him.

We finish eating in silence, but it’s not as tense or awkward as before. I never could hold a grudge so I’m not surprised that I’ve forgiven Logan for how he was when we first met.

“Let me help clean up,” I say once we’re done eating.

“I’ve got it. I know you’re tired. Go get some rest,” he orders, and I nod.

I’m exhausted.

“Good night,” I say softly, and I can feel his eyes on me as I retreat back to my room and close the door behind me.

I should be relieved. I have a safe place to sleep, food in my stomach, and I’mnotsharing space with rats, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’m standing at the edge of somethinghuge—something I don’t understand yet.

Something that smells like smoke,safety, and Logan.

I crawl into bed, curling into myself as exhaustion drags me under.

I dream of flames.

Andblue eyes watching me through the fire.

FOUR

Logan

I wake up before dawn,restless.

It’s not unusual for me—I’m used to early mornings, but this time, it’s different. My bear has been pacing in my head all night,on edge, listening for any movement in the bedroom next door.

My mate never stirred. It was like as soon as her head hit the pillow, she was out. Part of me loves that she feels safe enough here to rest, but then I also wonder what she’s been through the last few days or hours to make her so tired.

Even though I know Emerson is safe under my roof, my instincts refuse to settle.

She’s here. My mate.

And she has no idea what she is to me. She has no idea who, or what, I am.

I drag a hand down my face and sigh before throwing off the covers. Lying in bed isn’t going to do me any good, so I head for the kitchen.

Fifteen minutes later, the scent ofbacon and coffeefills the air, but my thoughts are miles away.

Who the hell burned her house down?

The footprints that Harris found weren’t hers. That much was obvious, but that means someonetargeted her, or her house anyway.No way that it was just a coincidence.

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