My brows furrowed. A matebond was capable of making mates spill their darkest secrets with each other. It acted as a truth serum for mates, but there was no way we had the real thing. She had to be playing me, but her innocence was clear as fucking day, which only pissed me off more.
“I’ve had a mate before. She was killed.” Heat rose on the back of my neck. “But your scent is affecting me as hers would. I want to mark you.”
She covered her neck with both hands and shook her head vigorously. “B-But I’m not anyone’s mate. I’m not anyone’s anything.”
“I know you’re not my mate, but that doesn’t explain this.” I reached forward and cupped her cheek, my palm making contact with the soft skin. Sparks exploded, more than they ever did with Olivia, which was fucking impossible.
A small moan escaped her lips, and my body tensed as I fought back the desire to rip off her tattered dress, mark her, and soul-bond with her right then and there.
I tore my hand away and took a couple of steps back for safety.
“Why did you move?” Her hand wandered to the cheek I had touched seconds before.
“Because you’re not my mate.”
Olivia was my mate. The witch was a damn imposter.
She flinched, her hand drifting to her chest. “Why did that hurt so bad to hear?” Tears trickled out of her round eyes and down her rosy cheeks.
My head flinched back as if she slapped me. My mate had died. Was it even possible for me to have a second chance mate? There weren’t any cases where a wolf had a second chance mate after their mate had died. Could I trust her, a witch, who’d been banished from her own coven?
A knot formed in my stomach. “Did you cast a spell on me? A fucking love spell or some shit?”
Her eyes seemed to glow as they flickered between mine, and she shook her head, sincerity pulsed through the new bond. “I don’t even know you, Xavier.”
My name on her tongue sent my primal side into overdrive, and the ache to wrap her up in my arms clawed at me. My wolf wanted to claim his mate, but my mind was a damn mess. “What’s your name?”
She bit her bottom lip, not bothering to wipe the descending tears. “Harlow.”
“And you’re a witch?”
She nodded. “Yes, but I would never tamper with yours—or anyone’s—feelings. Especially the emotion of love.”
I gave her a curt nod.
What the fuck was going on? What did I do now? If she was genuine—and every bone in my body told me she was—then that meant she was my mate. The other half of my fucking soul.
But how the hell could I accept her when Olivia’s death was so fresh in my memory?
THREE
Harlow
A bead of sweat rose on his temple, and his frown deepened. I could see the wheels turning in his chocolate brown eyes that made my knees weak.
I was fifteen when the coven banished me, so I knew about boys, crushes, and sex—but nothing could’ve prepared me for Xavier.
When he cupped my cheek, something moved through me like a wave of forbidden desire.
I had to be succumbing to insanity. I was a witch, and according to what I learned from the coven, witches didn’t have mates. It didn’t make any sense, but I couldn’t ignore the pulling force between us.
I wanted him, and hearing him say he wasn’t my mate and accuse me of casting some stupid love spell on him crushed me in ways I didn’t know was possible.
“Xavier?” His name slid off my tongue like honey.
He blinked, his eyes snapping to mine. “I don’t know what this means, Harlow.”
The way he said my name made my heart thump against my rib cage like violent waves crashing against rocks. He made my stomach knot up, and my body did things it’d never done before—but he was a werewolf, and werewolves were capable of disgusting, violent acts.
I had to stay level-headed around him, but it was hard to do when all he did was make me light-headed.
I swallowed hard. “I don’t know either.”
I couldn’t keep my eyes off him long enough to maintain an actual conversation, whether it was from the attraction or fear, I didn’t know.
Xavier paced across the room in even gaits, his bare feet pounding on the dark wooden floor. The man towered over me. He was at least a foot taller than I was.
Long, thick fingers swept through his short chestnut brown hair that shifted back into place once his hand had gone past. His tanned skin produced a glowing effect, making his stubble-covered chin seem darker. High cheekbones accentuated his face, and full pink lips were pressed firmly together in a flustered expression.
His emotions smashed into me in surges, more substantial than I’d felt before. I wasn’t sure if it was the matebond amplifying his emotions or because of how strong his feelings were.
Confusion, frustration, heartbreak, fondness, hope, and desire seeped into me.
I took a step forward, my body acting on its own. I needed to touch him to manipulate his emotions. I could calm him down if I could just make skin-to-skin contact. I wanted to comfort him in any way I could, which was stupid.
He was dangerous.
But I didn’t care.
He halted mid-step as his eyes locked on mine, and I froze with my hand reaching toward him.
“I have to go.” He stumbled backward over his feet, flung open the door, shifted into an enormous freaking wolf, and bolted.
My heart cried out for him, and every nerve in my body screamed for me to follow him—the man who was the embodiment of everything I hated.
I glanced down at my ripped-to-shreds sweatpants and sighed.
I figured two things.
First, he would come back if he wanted to explore this
