Just.
There were probably thirty or more adjectives to describe beauty, and although I’d always considered myself fairly intellectual, my brain was currently spinning in helpless, poetic circles, trying to land on the right word. None of them fit. Maybe I could toss them all in a centrifuge and merge them into the perfect one.
From this close, I realized how epically wrong I had been about my mate. So indisputably wrong.
He was much taller than I’d assumed. In fact, I definitely needed to order a portable ladder online, and ASAP. A pack of mini waffles stuck out of his front hoodie pocket, and a can of beer hung from the other end. Sweet and bitter.
His hair wasn’t only blond, either; it had threads of honey and shadows tangled together. It was like no part of him could decide on being one thing, so instead, he was made up of varying shades and depths.
I also noticed details, those special little features that would only reveal themselves in such proximity—the teeny scar slicing through his left eyebrow and thickening down the side of the temple, the stark angles softened by warm freckles across his nose, the small beauty mole on his chin.
Curly blond lashes were probably the only feminine trait he had, if you had to pick a girlier feature in him. After all, it seemed he’d probably invented the definition of masculinity.
His eyes darkened as they raked across the exposed skin of my legs, taking on the color of angry clouds filled with thunderbolts as his gaze shifted behind me, to where Garlic Man had been before he’d fled.
Finally, they sparked when they swung back to me. One corner of his mouth tugged up. Slow. Lazy. Confident. I held my breath as the other one followed a second later.
And just like that—I knew.
From that moment on, I would never be able to appreciate another smile.
Bonus point, his minty breath was a relief after the garlic field I’d just inhaled.
With my mouth open like a freshly-caught trout, I tugged at my skirt.
Well done, Yvaine. Real smooth.
But whatdidone say to their mate upon first meeting?
Hi, I like your mini waffles, but their sugar content exceeds the sensory benefits?
Hello, your jawline should be classified as an illegal weapon?
Before my shy vocal cords could utter a sound resembling the beginning of ahelloor aheyor even aheyo, my mate’s grin widened. He reached for my hand and…just snatched it. Folded it all around mine.
Without warning, he took me in his arms, the skirt of my dress spinning with me.
One moment, I was processing how good he smelled, and the next, I was twirling around, one hand buzzing with sparks.
I let out a breathy squeak that landed somewhere between surprise and a giddy laugh, and when I came back around, I was tucked in front of him, still holding his hand.
And we danced, his body close to mine. Too close to breathe right. The butterflies in my belly were as high as Garlic Man had been.
I exhaled and tried to steady myself.
This is your mate.
I let the beat of the music flow through my movements and swing me. People around us blurred; the room spun in slow motion.
And there was onlyus.
Only the way his hand fit into mine like it belonged there.
Only the way I watchedhimas he watchedme.
His eyes lingered on my hair, spinning and bouncing with every shift and beat, then shifted to my flushed cheeks before coming back to my eyes.
Uncontrollable feelings poured into me.
