Eyes closed, breath held, I waited.
“You okay?”
I startled hard at the question, not just because of my jangled nerves. It was his voice—deep and soothing, with velvety undertones.
I bit my lip and raked my gaze over the stranger I was using as a human shield. My eyes traveled up—way up—over a large, heavily-muscled physique to a handsomely chiseled face. His killer smile displayed perfect, gleaming white teeth and crinkled the corners of his green-gold eyes.
His smile set my panties on fire, and I knew who he was instantly. My heart rate went ballistic, tapping out a staccato rhythm against my ribcage.
My mate! The man was my mate.
“If you’re avoiding Captain Picard, he’s gone.”
Huh? I leaned to the right, craning my neck to search the shop. Sure enough, no Jim Bob, but several women at nearby tables were practically drooling in their mochaccinos as they openly ogled my mate.
Yes ladies, I know he’s hot. Back off.
“Uh, I was just trying to get away from a bad date that…” I hesitated. My fingers fiddled with my uniform belt. I shrugged. “Not important.”
He studied me, looking puzzled. Not exactly the reaction I’d expected from my mate. Shouldn’t he be more enthusiastic?
Maybe he was just as overwhelmed as I was. Yeah, that was probably it. I mean, here we were meeting each other for the first time. It was completely unexpected for both of us.
What should I say? I should probably introduce myself. Yeah. Right.
“I’m Elin. Elin Larsen.” Your mate.
He nodded. “Dylan King.” He kind of looked confused.
And then it dawned on me. Duh. Who could blame him for the confusion? His first glimpse of his mate and she’s dressed in a 1960’s sci-fi cosplay getup acting like a psychotic date-dodger.
I looked down at my outfit and sighed. But, while I mentally awarded myself the nerdiest nerd in Nerdsville trophy, Dylan suddenly flashed a megawatt grin.
“NuqneH.”
I inhaled sharply. Did he just… Did he really? No way!
My jaw dropped; My heart raced.
“You speak Klingon?” My hand flew to my chest.
Before he had a chance to respond, a gruff, raspy smoker’s voice with New York accent came from somewhere behind Dylan.
“Hey, sis, back o’ the line. Whadda ya’ tryna pull?”
I leaned to see around Dylan’s huge form. A little guy behind Dylan, whose face looked like a pickled beet that had been left in the sun too long and grew a throbbing vein on its temple, was gesturing with his thumb, to the line behind him.
Dylan glared over his shoulder at the man, and a low growl rumbled from his chest. That did not sound good. Not at all.
I knew Dylan was a shifter, although I didn’t know what kind. Was it rude to ask? I had no idea. That was one of the things I should have discussed with Arden and Flynn.
Shifters were highly protective of their mates, that I knew. Based on Dylan’s menacing expression, Pickled Beet Face was a hairsbreadth from having his head plucked off his body.
I had to take a second to let that sink in. My mate—about to defend me! That was swoony, no lie.
Our “how we met” story was one I planned to tell our children and grandchildren for decades to come. In order for it to not include spurting blood, handcuffs, and a jury trial, I’d have to think fast.
I tugged Dylan’s shirt sleeve and spoke as quietly as I could.
“Please let me handle this.”
Even though I whispered it under my breath, I knew Dylan heard because—shifter hearing.
For Pickled Beet’s benefit, I slammed my hands on my hips and raised my voice.
“I’m his wife, Rudy Rudeness. You’d let your wife stand in line with you, wouldn’t you?” It wasn’t a total lie—not exactly. We were mates, which according to Flynn, was kind of the same thing.
Dylan’s eyebrows shot up.
Pickled Beet rolled his eyes. “Riiiight. And I’m the queen of Sheba.” He moved his hands in an Egyptian dance.
The nerve!
“I am!” I was. Kind of. It was just a matter of time before Dylan and I became Mr. and Mrs.—the thought made my insides flutter like they were full of magical unicorns and glittery rainbows.
“Bullpucky. I don’t see no ring.”
What was it with me and asshats today?
“Well, I’m his soon-to-be-wife. His fiancée. Yeah, I’m his fiancée. We’re engaged.” I nodded smugly.
“Prove it.”
Apparently Dylan had only so much patience where letting me handle the situation was concerned. He turned and narrowed his eyes at Beet Face. The low growl again rumbled from his chest.
To his credit, Rudy Rudeness did look intimidated, so he wasn’t a total moron, but it didn’t appear as though he’d back down. And it damn sure didn’t look like Dylan would.
I tugged on Dylan’s sleeve again and when he glanced at me, I jumped and grasped him around the neck. He was at least a foot taller, which was why I had to jump. I tried to tug his face closer to mine, but he didn’t budge. He didn’t seem to get what I was doing.
“Lean down!” I hissed through my teeth.
When he did, I planted my lips firmly against his.
I may have been the initiator of the kiss, but as soon as our lips touched, Dylan immediately took charge.
I expected kissing my mate to feel otherworldly. I expected to feel a heightened pleasure, but… Oh. My. God.
The supercharged sizzle that gained momentum as it shot from my lips to my extremities tingled my…everything. There was nothing slow or leisurely in his kiss. Dylan demanded, dominated, took what he wanted, and gave me what I wanted.
One of his hands captured the back of my head and held me in place as he probed my mouth deeper. His tongue tangled with mine until I felt
