Our eyes clashed.
It was like every firework, Christmas light, and streetlamp blew all at once.
If I’d been comatose before, now I was sprinting into a heart attack. My pulse raced; my palms grew clammy.
And then they came. Sparks. Literal electric flutters. All around me, like invisible fireflies.
He was undoubtedly and objectively the most beautiful man anyone could ever think of. So much so my eyes stung.
He was the pure definition of masculinity.
Oh, Stephen!
It was like the guy had escaped from a magazine, and no one had had the good sense to send him back in.
His ash-blond hair was cut short at the sides and fell longer, messier on top. It was the kind of hair youhadto run your fingers through—maybe for scientific reasons.
Sculpted jaw, cheekbones carved by divine intervention, and lips full and soft, the bottom one thicker, inviting longer attention. His nose was straight, unbothered.
I wasn’t short, but I probably only reached his shoulder. The height difference felt perfect to me. I’d need to tilt my head back several degrees to look at him if he was standing right in front of me.
He wore a pale green tank that did little to hide all that bronze skin, and his arms were insanely muscular, probably bigger than my thighs. He had biceps, triceps, all the possible ‘ceps.’ An immense dark-blue tattoo crawled from his shoulders down to his clenched fists—a tangle of fractures or lightningbolts, I couldn’t decide. I only knew that they seemed to pulse with movement when he breathed.
He had been wearing a lazy grin before, but now, his expression was frozen in total shock. Steel-gray eyes zeroed in on me, the black almost swallowing all the silver as they dilated.
They roamed all over my face, and I pictured them carving my image inside his brain.
The air thickened between us, so much so I could almost distinguish the nitrogen and oxygen molecules. We both heard our wolves howlingtheword.
The one everyone waited for in dread.
The one that would change your existence forever.
Mate.
We looked at each other as if neither of us could believe what we were seeing.
Something deep inside me snapped. Rearranged. Everything seemed clearer as I gazed into that silver abyss.
Relief. Awe. Chaos.
And I knew it. Awareness and acceptance of what this meant—whathemeant—zapped right through my chest.
We continued to stare at each other without daring to bat an eyelid, until his group of friends—mostly girls, a few guys—moved. It tore me out of the magical trance. I blinked, able to breathe again.
His gaze dropped to the lower part of my face, eyes darkening noticeably. Oh, no. Was there something in my mouth? Or worse, on my teeth?! I had guacamole just before coming… with parsley!
I was still biting my lower lip when one of the girls leaned in, telling him something I didn’t catch.
I recoiled as if the sight had slapped me, zeroing in on that hand, on the seahorse tattoo palming his forearm. I looked backup at him, then at the hand again. I’d never disliked seahorses as much as I did right then.
Still wide-eyed, he followed the direction of my gaze, only then noticing the hand there. He swatted it away without even looking at the girl, who staggered back. A determined look possessed his features.
And then he moved.
People flinched away, like gravity bent around him, and everyone else had to step back. His tremendous figure stalked forward, shoulders rolling, eyelids hooded. My cheeks burned, heart racing embarrassingly fast.
I placed a hand on my chest.
