“This territory, Atlanta and the surrounding area, it falls under my pack.”
“You’re a king. A literal king. Of wolves. In Atlanta.” I pressed my hands against my knees to stop them from bouncing. “Of course you are. Of course the most intense, controlling, impossible man I’ve ever met is literally a king of wolves. That actually makes a disturbing amount of sense and I hate that it does.”
It was officially an information overload. Was I dreaming? I pinched my arm. Nope, didn’t wake up.
“Is there anything else?” I asked, and I meant it to sound sarcastic but it came out exhausted. “Any other massive life-altering secrets you want to unload while we’re here?”
He was quiet for a beat. I watched his chest rise and fall with a breath that looked like he was bracing himself.
“You’re my mate, Andrea.”
I stared at him. “Your what?”
“My fated mate.” He took a step closer, then stopped himself, like he remembered I’d told him to stay back. “It’s rare. So rare most shifters think it’s a legend, a fairy tale. But it’s real. My wolf recognized you the second you walked into that interview room. The bond snapped into place and I knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That you’re my other half.”
I didn’t say anything for a long time. The words just sat there in the air between us, too big to pick up and examine, too heavy to brush off. My boss was a wolf. He was a king. And apparently I was his soulmate. At three in the morning. In my pajamas. On a porch step that was making my ass numb.
“So the pull,” I said, slowly, carefully, because if I talked too fast I was going to scream. “The thing I’ve been feeling for two years. The stomach flips, the staring, the way I can’t stop thinking about you even when you’re being completely insufferable. That’s this bond?”
“The bond doesn’t create feelings,” he said. “It recognizes compatibility that already exists. Everything you’ve felt was real, Andrea. The bond just means it goes both ways.”
“Both ways?”
“I’ve felt the same pull since the second you walked through that door. Every day. For two years.”
My chest went tight. Tight and warm and terrifying. He felt it too. The whole time. Every glance through the glass, every loaded silence, every moment I thought I was losing my mindover a man who didn’t think about me twice, he was feeling it right back.
And then it hit me.
If he was Fin. And Fin sat on this porch while I talked. Then every single thing I ever said to that dog was said directly to Finneas Kingsley’s face.
My face went hot. My neck, my ears, my whole body flushed so fast I thought I might pass out right there on the porch step.
“Oh no.”
I stood up.
“Oh no no no no no.”
“Andrea...”
“Every time I sat on this porch and talked about you. That was YOU. You were sitting right there. Listening to every goddamn word.”
“Yes.”
“Oh my god.” I pressed both hands over my face. “Oh my god, Finneas.”
“Andrea, it’s not...”
“I talked about your hands. I described how you hold a pen. To your face. To your dog face. I told a dog how my boss holds a pen and I couldn’t look away and that dog was my goddamn boss.”
His mouth twitched. I saw it even through my fingers.
“I ranked your grunts. I gave your grunts a full taxonomy, Finneas. I categorized them by meaning and frequency and told a dog on my porch which ones were my favorites. And the dog was you.”
