Page 33 of Colton’s Mate

“Well,” she said slowly, “I’m a little drunk. So if it sounds stupid, I can just pretend later that I don’t remember any of it. If you want.”

Colt was silent for another moment, his fingers tracing round and round the whiskey bottle.

“I guess I’m… waiting,” he said finally. “All the families in our crew, where we grew up, they’re all true mates. Mine and Remy’s parents, Kitty’s parents, Brandon’s—you can see it in the way they look at each other, and touch each other. You can—you can feel the bonds.”

He looked off into the distance. “Love like that—devotion like that—once you’ve been around it, you can’t settle for anything less.”

“And you haven’t found it yet?”

He shrugged. “I don’t think I’m ready to find it.”

“Why not?” Callie asked. “Too confining?” It sounded confining to her. Even suffocating. “You’d miss the parties and the fun?”

He looked up quickly, surprised, and then shook his head, a little smile touching his lips. “No. If I ever do find my mate, none of that will matter. I won’t want anyone else, and I won’t miss the other stuff. That’s how true mating bonds work.”

That still sounded confining. And yet, it touched a little yearning place inside her. To feel that kind of devotion from someone—someone like Colt—must be amazing.

“Then what is it?”

He shrugged and looked away. “Loving someone is one thing. Being able to make them happy is something else again. I’m only twenty-four—too young and fucked-up to do justice to a bond like that. Or to the kind of woman who deserves it.” He looked at her now. “How can I give someone everything if I don’t know who the fuck I even am?”

Looking into his eyes, Callie felt something split apart in her chest. This was a good man. Not a player. Not a user or a manipulator. Someone who tried his best to treat people right.

She hoped for his sake that there was a true mate out there for him. Because he deserved a good one.

“Someday you’ll find her,” she said. “And she’ll laugh at your dick jokes and shoot whiskey with you and patch up your wounds after you get in brawls, and pretend you really are God’s gift to women.”

“Nah, she’ll be in the brawl with me,” Colt said. “And we’ll patch each other up. But until I meet that utterly perfect woman, there’s nothing wrong with having a good time. As long as nobody gets hurt.”

He paused, then said, “And, wait. Are you telling me I’m not God’s gift to women? That can’t be right.”

Callie rolled her eyes at him. But inside, she wondered what it would be like, to be sure you had a true mate out in the world—and to look forward to finding them. Not like her.

“I can’t imagine the kind of mating bond you’re talking about,” she admitted. “Lynxes are solitary. They hardly ever form permanent matings.”

Colt had been pouring her more whiskey, and now he put the bottle down. “For realz?” he asked. “Then where do little baby lynxes come from? Science experiments?”

“Hah hah. No. We—they—mate, doofus, but only for a little while. Eventually the male gets all introverted lynx-y and takes off to contemplate his navel in the forest. Or the female gets sick of him and she takes off. And if she’s pregnant, she raises her kids on her own, or teams up with one or two other women and they raise their kids together.”

“Dude,” Colt said. “It’s like the Island of the Amazons. I bet those lynx-lady communes go through a shit-ton of vibrator batteries.”

Callie started to giggle. “Now I’m picturing all these lynx houses at night, wild buzzing sounds coming from all the bedrooms. Like swarms of bees.”

That set Colt off. When he was done laughing, he said, “I can’t believe—after accusing me of being a skanky man ho’—you’re telling me that lynx woman just use guys for sex, and then move on and leave them crying in the dust. I’m shocked. I think I’m even judging you.”

Callie leaned back in her dining-room chair and spread her hands in a ‘what can you do?’ gesture. “Judge all you want,” she said. “It’s the lynx way. Love ‘em and leave ‘em. And it’s what I’m going to do from now on.”

She took another sip of whiskey. Her chest was feeling really warm and happy, and it made Bad Callie want to come out. “I’m going to get Kitty to take me makeup shopping, and get dark eyeliner and bombshell-sexy red lipstick. And I want a mysterious past. Can you buy one of those?”

“I think you can just make it up,” Colt said, looking fascinated.

“Yes. That. And then I’m going to slink from one man to the next, seducing them and leaving devastation in my wake.”

“Sweet,” Colt said. “I’m in. I could be, like, the test case. Take notes, analyze your slinkiness and your seduction technique. Give you pointers.”

He was watching her intently, and his eyes were doing that thing where they made women breathless. It was also possible she’d had too much whiskey.

Colt leaned in, those mesmerizing eyes still fixed on hers. “Come on,” he murmured. “I dare you. Love me and leave me. I promise you won’t regret it.”