THE ALPHAS FATED MATE
PIXIE
Asha must have sensed the sudden shift in me, because he reached out and gently cradled my face, bringing my forehead to his.
“You are my mate, Pixie,” he murmured, his voice rumbling and sincere. “The person I fell for is you, not a ghost.”
“She looks just like me, Asha,” I breathed, hearing the fear in my own voice.
“But she is not you,” he reassured me, the pads of his thumbs rough with callouses but still heartbreakingly gentle on my cheeks. “She isn’t the one I want to build a life with. You are. It’s only you. Always.”