Page 10 of The Witch's Shifter
Chapter 8
Aurora
FOR A MOMENT, NO ONE moves. I’m pretty sure we’re all holding our breath. Beneath my breast, my heart races.
“I’m your what?” I whisper, still standing behind Rowan, peering around him and his gleaming silver sword. I was shocked to step into the foyer and find the both of them locked in the doorway, each refusing to move. At least no one’s bleeding on the hardwood floor.
The shifter flexes his hands, and I notice his long nails for the first time. He holds my gaze unwaveringly as he says once more, “My mate.”
I knew this about shifters—that they often have fated mates, instinctual bonds they can do little to fight—but I didn’t realize it could happen between a shifter and a witch. My professor definitely didn’t coverthatin class.
“How do you know?” I ask, my voice coming out quieter than I intended. Is it possible he got it wrong?
“It’s your scent. I knew it when I smelled you. It’s how I found my way to you in the woods.”
So, his appearance in the shadows of the trees wasn’t random. He was looking for me. Tracking me.
While part of me wishes to recoil from him, from this strange man who claims I’m his mate, the other part is curious, intrigued. How could I not be?
My gaze slides down the man’s muscle-bound body, to the thick dark hair between his legs and the impressive length he has there.
My mate.
I swallow hard.
Rowan adjusts his stance in the doorway, shifting back a bit, as if he’s trying to put distance between me and the man.
“What does this mean?” he asks.
“It means,” the shifter snaps, showing his teeth again, “I’m not going anywhere.”
To my left, Alden is standing on the stairs, brown eyes wide, curly hair mussed from his nap.
“Alden,” I say softly, drawing his gaze to mine, “do you have an extra pair of trousers? Something that’ll fit...” I realize I don’t yet know the man’s name. I glance his way. “What’s your name?” I ask him around Rowan’s immovable frame.
The man shifts slightly, floorboards creaking beneath his weight. There’s a long pause. Maybe he doesn’t trust us.
Finally, he sighs. “Faolan.”
My chest does something funny when I hear his name. I don’t know this man, don’t know anything about him, and yet somehow, his name feels... familiar, like it’s something I’ve heard before in my dreams.
Is that the mate bond? Is thisreal?
Quickly, I flick my gaze back to Alden. “Do you have something that’ll fit Faolan?”
Alden rubs a hand down his face, looking like he’s trying to wake himself up. There are dark crescents beneath his eyesfrom the lack of sleep he’s gotten these last few days. “I’ll find something,” he says, voice gruff.
He pads back up the stairs. With him gone, I look back to Rowan and Faolan. They’re staring each other down, neither one willing to relax their aggressive stance. Clearly, I need to solve this problem. And when it comes to grumpy men, I have a few tricks up my sleeve.
“You must be hungry,” I say to Faolan, keeping my voice light. “Why don’t we all have something to eat, and we can talk about... everything.”
“Aurora,” Rowan hisses.
“I know,” I whisper, placing my hand on his low back. Under my fingers, his muscles are tense. He hates this—has hated every moment of it since he came sprinting through the forest to find me—and I understand that. But I’m intrigued by Faolan—and his belief that I’m his...mate. I need to hear what he has to say. “Now, are you two going to be able to get along?”
They don’t answer.
With an irritated sigh, I turn and head back toward the kitchen. “Well, you two can stay in there, or you can join me in the kitchen to eat. Your choice. But I’ll only offer once.”
