Page 12 of Bone Collector’s Mate

“It is.”

“My wolf likes that you are protective of Benji. My son. He said he wasn’t afraid of you or the goat.”

I chuckled, almost not recognizing the sound. It had been many a moon since something made me laugh. Even books didn’t do it anymore. “Homer is a good goat. He tends the lawn but his red eyes are scary. Maybe because Benji didn’t have his glasses he didn’t notice.”

“Maybe.”

We stood there, observing each other. He stared at my body and I stared at his.

He licked his lips and I tracked every centimeter of motion.

“I can’t scent my mate,” I said. “But I have heard of a way that some can tell who their mate is.”

“What is it?” he asked. Damn, this omega was eager to know if I was his. And even better if he was mine.

“This.” I closed the distance between us and took his face in my hands. I forced the shift from skull to human face and pressed my lips to his. A moan came from the omega, and I pulled him close, feeling how attracted we both were.

The whole world shifted with that kiss. The touch of his soft lips. The way my body no longer felt like a shell but filled up with love and care and concern.

And devotion as I’d never been to my craft.

I broke the kiss but still cupped his face, staring at one eye and the other.

The kiss told me everything. This man. Rook.

He was my fated mate.