Page 30 of Jace's Mate

“Anikka,” she offered, her voice low.She was still staring at him like she was trying to decode a dream.

His fingers curled around hers, slow and reverent.Her skin was warm, delicate, perfect.He didn’t want to release her.

“Who’s your Alpha?”he asked.

She blinked.Confusion darkened her eyes.She didn’t even notice their joined hands.

“What’s an Alpha?”

The question hit him like a slap.

He inhaled deeply, grounding himself with her scent.No mistake.She was a wolf.Hiswolf.

“Your pack leader,” he said carefully.“The one who leads your pack.”

She looked down, startled to realize they were still touching.She yanked her hand away.

Jace stepped forward.

She didn’t retreat.

“Dogs have packs,” she muttered, but her voice had lost some of its certainty.

“You have a pack,” he told her, voice steel beneath velvet.“You’re a she-wolf.You feel it, even if no one’s told you.It’s in your blood.”

“I don’t,” she said fiercely.“I live with my uncle.And his...employees.”

Jace tried for a smile, but suspected what showed on his face was more wolf than man.“That’s your pack,” he said.“Your uncle’s the Alpha?”

He stopped.The words died in his throat.

He’d been about to say,Take me to him.He wanted to demand her release.That was the way of their kind—Alpha to Alpha, the claim acknowledged, the mate bond honored.Even among rivals,mates were sacred.

But the question never made it past his lips.

Because then she said, “What’s a she-wolf?”

And Jace’s mind blanked.

“A she-wolf,” he repeated, slow and confused.As if saying the words again would somehow make sense to her.

But her eyes only filled with more doubt.

“I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else,” she said, backing away.

He reached out and caught her arm, gentle but firm.“Can I buy you a coffee?”he asked, voice low.

He hated coffee—bitter, acrid, and a scent-blocking nightmare—but humans loved the stuff.And she didn’t know what she was yet.

“No, thank you,” she said, her voice soft as she shook her head.“I’ve never acquired a taste for it.”

Of course she hadn’t.Jace smothered the rush of satisfaction threatening to twist his lips.Of course.

“How about a glass of wine?”

That earned him a flicker of interest.She turned, studying him again—her eyes drifting over his chest, his shoulders, assessing.His wolf all but preened under her scrutiny.Good.A she-wolf always evaluated the strength of her mate.Not for her own protection—never that—but for the future of her pack.Her pups.

Their pups.