“No,” she said immediately, not wanting him to think any such thing. “You don’t freak me out in any way.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
She jutted out her chin. “I don’t get involved with people who’re spoken for.”
“Good. Neither do I.”
But he was spoken for, because . . . “You’re a shifter.”
“I’m well aware of that,” he said, impatient. He had no idea where she was going with this. He thought it best not to comment on how cute she looked when she lifted her chin like that.
“You have a true mate waiting for you somewhere out there. Kissing you last night . . . I feel like I touched something that belonged to someone else. And now I feel shitty about it.”
Understanding, Zander sighed. He hadn’t expected the true-mate thing to be an issue. It wasn’t something that had ever bothered anyone before now. Given that Gwen Miller was a female with principles, it would have occurred to him to expect that response if she’d been right. But she was human and didn’t seem to properly understand the way it worked.
He rested his hand in the crook of her neck and caressed the column of her throat with his thumb. “You’re right that I have a true mate, but who says she’s waiting for me, Gwen? She could be imprinted on another. She could be someone who doesn’t want a mate. She could be someone I never meet for any number of reasons.”
Gwen frowned. “Imprinting is when two people who aren’t true mates form a mating bond, right?”
“That’s right. It happens more often than you’d think. I know several imprinted couples. One of my closest friends imprinted on a female not so long ago; their bond is as strong as any I’ve seen between true mates.” He skimmed his finger over her cheekbone. “My uncle died recently.”
She winced. “Sorry to hear that.”
Zander shrugged. “I didn’t know him well. He searched for his mate all his life. He never found her, and he died alone. He told me in a letter he’d written shortly before his death that I shouldn’t spend my life doing the same. I never intended to anyway because, for me, searching for my mate would be pointless.”
She tilted her head. “Why?”
“Several things can block the frequency of the mating bond, including doubts and fears and mental walls. Did you know that?”
She shook her head. “Let me guess. You have mental walls that are sky-high.”
A smile tugged at his mouth. “You could say that my boundaries are more extensive than most.” And he feared mating, in part, because he liked to be in control of himself, his life, his choices. Finding his true mate would take some of that control away.
“Those walls I have will block the bond,” Zander continued. “That means I can’t even be sure I’ll recognize my predestined mate if I cross her path. We could pass each other in the street and never know. Hell, we could know each other for years and never realize we’re mates. Unless she and I bond, I don’t belong to her any more than she belongs to me. If it worked any other way, shifters would never be able to form a mating bond with someone who wasn’t their true mate.” He tugged on her braid. “In other words, I’m just as free and single as you are.”
She looked away. “I don’t understand. You’re . . .”
“What?”
Gorgeous, edible, out of my league. Gwen slid her gaze back to him. “You didn’t show the slightest bit of interest in me until yesterday, and now you’re all up in my space.”
Yeah, well, he hadn’t admitted to himself just how much he wanted her until yesterday. He moved aside her collar so he could look at the bite on her neck. Masculine satisfaction flared through him—perhaps more satisfaction than he should be comfortable with. He brushed his thumb over the imprint of his teeth. “Do you know what that is?”
“I’m pretending it’s not there.”
Zander fought a smile. “But it is there.”
“No, it’s not.”
“I’m looking right at it.”
“At what? There’s nothing to look at.”
Mouth curving, he cupped her jaw. “That mark tells others that you’re taken. Not by someone who considers you a simple possession—shifters won’t mark people they don’t respect, and they don’t do it on a whim or for shits and giggles. The mark says you’re taken by someone who respects, protects, and values you. Someone who, yeah, will be up in your space. Right now, while you have a threat hanging over your head, you need someone that close.”
He respected and valued her? “You don’t even know me.”
“I like what I know. I know you’re smart, resilient, you stand your ground, and you’ll be a voice for people who can’t speak up for themselves. It takes a strong person to do that.” Even his wolf liked her strength, though he still held her at a metaphorical distance.
“You say all that, but you’re still suspicious of me for a reason you haven’t yet explained.”
“I’m suspicious of whatever I don’t understand. You, Gwen, are a mystery in many ways.” It was the truth; it just didn’t fully answer her question. But Zander didn’t think that telling her of his wolf’s struggles would help. Before she could question him further, he said, “Now let’s finish up here and get back, yeah? There are too many scents in this place.”
She let out a breath. “All right. I’m almost done.”
As they’d each said their piece, the tension between them disappeared. But things sort of weirdly . . . shifted. She’d thought he’d been up in her space before, but she quickly realized he’d actually given her space. Now that the air was clear, he apparently saw no need to hold back.
He stroked her hair. Doodled patterns on her nape. Breathed her in. Nipped her earlobe. Swept a hand down her back. Pressed the occasional soft kiss to her neck.
Every touch was possessive and playful. She wasn’t sure anyone had ever paid her that level of attention before. It was like he honed every sense on her, making her feel like the center of everything as he touched and crowded her. He was everywhere, and it was as overwhelming as it was thrilling. It was also a problem, because it was firing her libido.
As they were nearing the checkout stand, he let out a low growl that made her think of an idling motorcycle. She threw him a questioning look, surprised to see his nostrils flaring.
“You’re wet,” he said in a low, deep voice.
Her cheeks reddened. “You have no one to blame for that but yourself.”
Once they’d bagged the groceries, they loaded them into the trunk of his SUV. She’d wanted to take her truck, but he’d rightly pointed out that as the Moores knew her vehicle, they’d know to look for her if they saw it around. Unable to argue that, she’d agreed to let him drive her to the store. Done loading the trunk, Zander drove en route to the house.
Resting one hand on her thigh, he asked, “Did Yvonne officially adopt you?”
Gwen sighed. “You’re so damn nosy.”
“Answer my question, and I’ll answer one of yours.”
“All right. No, she didn’t. She just fostered me, the same as she did Marlon and Julie. Your turn.” She lifted a brow. “You ever had anal sex?”
He did a double take. “What?”