Chosen Mates, Stolen Fates
“Does it?”
He smiled, the thought of his mate clear in his mind. “She does, and so I do, too.”
“You’re lovesick, you know that?”
He smiled, then as if catching himself, eyed me with sudden, weary suspicion. “Are we actually talking about this?”
I shrugged. “What? It’s not like you’re not mates.”
“I know, but…” he paused again, weary of my mood shift. “We don’t talk about…”
I stopped walking, once more pulling my arm from his. “Oh, is this suddenly weird now because she’s going to be my step-sister? Cause we’re waaay past weird in this situation if that’s what you’re getting hung up on.”
Bab Populer