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She makes an irritated noise in her throat, but she’s still too flustered to speak.

“Let me ask you this,” I say, sitting up in bed. “Would you letDerekdance with you like that?”

“That’s not a fair question,” she says, not meeting my eyes. Her voice is quiet and a little timid. “Derek and I are over.”

“And you and I never even got started.”

The words come out rougher than I intended and hang between us like a promise. I wish I could see her expression better, but she won’t look at me. Her throat bobs as she continues to rummage in her suitcase, but I don’t think she’s really looking for anything.

“You can grab one of my T-shirts,” I say. “They’ll all be huge on you, but I promise they’re clean.”

Elena gives a jerky half nod and digs a white tee out of my bag. She scurries into the bathroom to get ready for bed, and I lie back on the pillows and try not to think about her sliding off that slinky gold dress without me.

I have every intention of acting as though I’m already asleep to make the sharing-a-bed thing less awkward, but when she finally emerges, I can’t help sneaking a peek.

My world explodes into a million pieces.

Elena is drowning in my T-shirt, and yet she looks somehow perfect. The light from the bathroom illuminates her curves beneath the thin material and gleams off her legs, which are bare from her mid-thighs.

Despite her earlier efforts with the hair straightener, Elena’s curls are rebelling. Her dark locks are twisting at the ends, curling over my shirt.

Fuck. Me.

Inevershould have suggested that she wear myclothes. It’s so much worse than seeing her in that skimpy sleep set— and by worse, I mean a million fucking times better.

A second later, Elena flips off the light, thrusting the room into near total darkness. I see her shadowy form moving toward the bed, and I feel the mattress shift as she pulls back the covers.

I’m aware of every little move she makes as she slips into bed beside me. I hear her fluffing two pillows for her head and know she’s about to reach for a third, which she’ll fall asleep hugging.

It’s creepy as fuck that I know how many pillows my little sleeping beauty needs, but I practically lived at the Garcia house when I was younger.

As she snuggles in, I catch a devastating whiff of her coconut shampoo. Her scent mixes with my own, and my wolf growls in satisfaction that our mate is wearing my clothes.

Shit.

Mate.

The word pings around in my head like a pinball —so fast I can’t quite grasp it.

Mate.Mate.

I try it on for size, feeling my chest swell with emotion as my guts twist in fear. It’s not a word any shifter takes lightly, and the implication makes me shiver.

The mating bond is stronger than marriage — stronger than the bond of the pack. And yet the second it slides into my mind, I know it’s true.

Elena is my fated mate.

I’ve heard countless stories from my pack brothers about what it was like when they found their mate —heard them chuckle at the possessiveness that overtook them the first time they laid eyes onher.

I always thought it sounded like a sort of temporary insanity. It’s not something I ever wanted to experience for myself. And yet, I think I have.

IknowI have.

It’s the same territorial rage I felt tonight when that idiot Derek came sidling up to her. Contrary to what I said to Elena, I didn’t just start the fight to defend her honor. When Derek made a claim on her, I wanted to rip his fucking head off.

But if Elenaismy fated mate, that means she’s always been my mate.

I’ve known Elena since she was born. I remember when her parents brought her home from the hospital.