Page 2 of Twist of Fated Mates
Jaw hanging open, blue eyes full of joyful intensity, he practically runs through the tavern to greet me.
Mate.
Charlie
My whole lifeI’ve dreamed of meeting my mate.
In those countless daydreams—not to mention a fair few extremely pleasant nightdreams—never once did I imagine he’d already be dead.
Or undead.
Whatever.
“You’re a vampire.” I blink at him, my mouth agape. A whirlwind of emotions churns through me, none of them settling long enough to be pinned down.
He’s gorgeous, with a mane of black flowing hair, honey-brown eyes, and lips that are too red to be natural. Plenty nice to stare at, even if that pretty mouth hides deadly fangs. He sits alone at the bar, nursing a warm drink that smells of apples and cinnamon. Steam rises from the cup, swirling a ghostly frame around his face.
Wide eyes narrow as he scans me from head to toe then meets my gaze. “And you’re short. We can’t all be perfect.”
“Hey.” I crinkle my brow. “I can’t help that.”
“And I can’t help being a vampire.”
Fair point. I shouldn’t be so cheeky with my intended, especially when he looks like he could eat me for dinner.
Especially when I want to let him.
We’re at Two Toes Tavern, my uncle’s place down by the river on the edge of pack territory. It serves both the human and preternatural populations, though the former isn’t aware of the latter. We keep our wolf identities a secret for safety.
I lean in and steal a whiff of his delectable scent—pine, lye soap, blood, and…mate. A sweeping rush of fervor rattles my nerves. Is it really him? Have I really found my intended so soon? So easily?
I’m not usually this lucky. Then again. Heisa vampire. That’s weird. Wolf first, but vampire also. A zillion questions flit through my mind. Best to start with the basics.
“What’s your name?”
He watches me like it’s a trick question, gaze assessing, expression blank.
I can’t get a read on him. Does he feel it too? This magnetic tug, like a craving so deep my very bones ache with the need to be closer to him. To know him. This alluring wolf-vampire that dares set foot in our territory without permission.
Maybe that’s why he’s here. To seek permission. If so, I’ll be sure it’s granted. My mother is our alpha. No way she’d keep my mate from my side, vampire or not.
“Nigel.” He closes his lips and runs his tongue along his hidden teeth, toying with my curiosity. “Yours?”
“Charlie.” The urge to fling myself at him and cling like ivy grows difficult to ignore, but he’s holding himself carefully rigid, as if ready to bolt. Spine straight, shoulders back, body tense. So I rein in my desire.
For now.
I gesture at the open barstool next to him. “This seat taken?”
Nigel sniffs. “You can see that it’s not.”
Oh good. He’s bitchy. My favorite.
I climb onto the cushioned brown leather because he’s right about one thing—I’m short—and give in to the urge to study him.
He’s not alabaster pale like one might expect of a vampire. Rather his cheeks shine with a ruddy glow. Like he’s flushed. Or shy. Maybe he’s shy. “Are you shy?”
Nigel draws his brows inward. “Not particularly.”
