I didn’t know her, what she looked like, where she was, but I knew my mate was out there. And it was that truth that had me saving myself for her. Only her. If I couldn’t fully give myself over to my fated mate, what kind of worthy male was I?
But staying in town, hidden deep within the forest, wouldn’t bring my mate to me. I had to go and find her.
I had to make her mine.
As a former foster child, I never had real family, no roots. I’d always felt like something was missing, so I worked hard on helping others. My mobile medical van was where my passion lay. It’s how I made sure no one else felt helpless.
But when my van was broken into, and my safety compromised, it was a big bear shifting male who came to the rescue.
Oli said I was his. He claimed I was his mate. He seemed certain of it just by looking at me. It was insanity, but I couldn’t deny the pull I felt for him, the way my body craved his.
Pushing him away wasn’t an option, not when he was always there, watching me, making sure I was protected. And it was that need inside of me, the one that grew and consumed me, that finally had me giving in.
I soon realized being mated to a bear shifter meant he was grumpy, protective, possessive, and wanted only one thing.
Oli slammed the door shut with his foot and stood there a moment, his head slightly downcast but his gaze locked right on me. He looked so primal in this moment, like the animal he truly was.
He was in front of me a second later, and instinctively I knew what to do, what he wanted.
I tilted my head back as far as it would go, and then latched his mouth onto my throat. The sound that left him was distorted, animal-like, and filled with as much desire as I felt.
The way he looked at me, the way his gaze tracked me when I moved the slightest inch, had my breath hitching.
“India,” he whispered. “My India. I could devour you until there wasn’t anything left, until you were crying out my name, writhing for me as I fuck you.”
I opened my mouth slightly, the air leaving me. He moved a step toward me and the air stalled in my lungs.
“I’d push your hair aside and bare your slender throat. My mouth is already watering, India. I’m so fucking hungry for you.” And then he had his hand on my nape, his fingers curled into my flesh.
He leaned in and I was frozen in place, the feel of his warm breath on my skin having me close my eyes, moaning softly. “The things I want to do to you…” He growled low against my throat, and I felt the vibrations all the way between my thighs.
Jenika Snow, a USA Today bestselling author, lives in the northeast with her husband and their children.
She prefers gloomy days, eats the topping off of her pizza first, and prefers to wear socks year round.