He shrugs. “The mating exemption.”
The table falls totally quiet. Every conversation comes to a halt as our coworkers turn their heads to stare.
Oh, no.
“Really?” Naomi gapes at him. “You?”
Without hesitation, Mr. Roth nods. “We’ll be approaching human resources on Monday.”
We will?This is news to me. As is, apparently, that he’ll be claiming the mating exemption.
Which only means one thing. He thinksI’mhis mate.
My jaw works as the music slows, then stops, and someone comes on stage to start speaking. Naomi turns away, as does everyone else at the table, to watch the speaker extoll the virtues of the organization.
“Are you serious?” I lean my head in close to Mr. Roth’s side as I whisper. “When were you going to tell me?”
“Tonight.” His hand curls tighter around mine. “I’m sorry for the way it came out.”
But I don’t think he’s sorry. I think he engineered it so he could catch me off guard in public, so I wouldn’t be able to freak out on him the way I am freaking out inside my head.
How long has he known? What does orcish mating even entail?
I move to get up from my chair, and Mr. Roth gives me a quizzical look.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” I say, and immediately, he gets to his feet with me and guides me out of the ballroom. We ask a volunteer to point us in the right direction.
But I pass the bathrooms and duck down into a side hallway. Mr. Roth glances around us, where only a harried-looking volunteer iscarrying an auction basket, and she runs on ahead, leaving us alone.
“You can’t make stuff up like that,” I say immediately. “That’s just to throw them off the scent, right?”
“No.”
Mr. Roth’s gaze is solid, unwavering.
“Really?” I choke. “With me? But…”
“You’re my mate.” His tone couldn’t be more certain. “Mine.”
VINCENT
Now she knows, with no room for doubt.
My first clue should have been when I threatened a man just for touching Velvet’s tits. And then, last night, I imagined her at Octavio’s. Imagined what she might be doing there. The longer I pictured it, strangers’ hands all over her, maybe even some other cock inside her, I was sure I was going to break a hole in my brick walls.
Instead, I destroyed another punching bag.
It was when I tore through the leather and stitching again, and it collapsed tothe floor in a heap, that I knew. My body and soul had both laid claim to Rosette Kristoff. What I thought was a tryst with my assistant has become much, much more than that.
For me, at least.
This is, most unfavorably, an orcish experience. Only orcs, wolfmen, and a few other scattered species out there spontaneously imprint on their mates, creating an undeniable and everlasting bond. Often it springs from attraction, but sometimes it can come even for totally platonic work colleagues.
Thus, the mating exemption. I can’t control who my body imprints on. Though I’m sure we helped it along by fucking the way we did.
The one question mark has been how Ms. Kristoff will respond. I am asking her, quite plainly, to be with me. To be mine forever, wholly and completely.
Which, after how I’ve behaved, is a big request.
