The Mate Agreement
Please, please dig a little deeper.
He reaches out a hand and carefully tucks back a strand of my hair, like he’s sacred of touching me, but when his fingers brush the skin of my cheek, his touch lingers tentatively before he pulls away, his hand curling into a loose fist on the sheets. “You’re Isabella.” He says, as if trying to confirm a fact to himself. “You’re my… mate.”
I nod, pulling my lower lip between my teeth so he doesn’t see it quivering. “Do you remember?” I ask in a hopeful whisper, part of me already knowing the answer. If he did remember, this moment wouldn’t be happening at all.