Page 27 of Love Bites

“He just made me even more of a target than I already am,” I protested.

“Nah, the only ones brave enough to target Hale’s mate are the other kings,” Roscoe said.

“How many times do I have to say we’re not kings?” Hale grumbled.

My stomach growled, and both mens’ eyes dilated as my magic flared.

Hale grabbed me by the waist. “Do whatever she wants to the pool. It’s hers.”

Despite the possessive growl in his voice, the words were a turn-on. A serious turn-on.

“You should add that to the message,” Roscoe called behind her. “So people stop wondering why you put this in instead of the mini-golf course we voted for.”

“There was supposed to be a mini-golf course?” I yelled over Hale’s shoulder, as he turned the corner.

“An epic one!” Roscoe shouted back.

“Why’d you kill the mini-golf course? Everyone likes mini-golf,” I said, trying to adjust my position on his shoulder so my ribs wouldn’t hurt so bad.

“My mate’s a siren. Fuck mini-golf.”

“You built a pool for me? You didn’t even know me until today!”

“I told you, I was looking for you. I had to do it quietly, or the whole city would realize there was an unmated siren wandering around. I knew you were mine the moment I tasted your blood.”

My forehead creased. “Not the moment you felt my magic?”

He turned down a hallway and strode over toward a shiny, black elevator. It had to be the one he’d mentioned would take us to our room.

“Of course not. Your magic feels nice, but I don’t care about that any more than I care about the damn golf course.”

“So youdon’twant me because I’m a siren?”

“No. My life would be much easier right now if you were a raccoon shifter.”

I choked out a laugh. “Somehow, that’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Romance is bullshit.”

“Whatever you say.” I peeled a strip of wet hair off my face as he hit the button to call the elevator. “I don’t think this is the way to the food.”

“No, but I’m not taking you to dinner wearing this. I need to buy you a wetsuit or something.”

“Awetsuit?” I made a face. “I’m a siren, Hale. We’re supposed to swim naked and free, so we can feel the water on our bare breasts. Or something like that, anyway. This bikini is as close to a wetsuit as you’re getting me.”

“We can argue about that later.”

“We most certainly cannot. I’m done arguing about my swimwear.”

“Argue with me about my name, then.”

That was a good transition. A really good transition.

The elevator dinged, and he stepped inside, typing the code he’d given me.

0615.

June 15th.

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