Page 3 of Cherished By My Mate

Get her! he snarls, lunging again.

I clench my hands into fists, staggering back a step until I hit the wall, staring at the curvy little criminal in shock.

Well, shit. Guess I don’t need that plan to find my fated mate after all.

Looks like she found me.

2

Elsie

I stare at the handsome man, my heart hammering.

Shit. I thought this house was empty. Guess not.

His dark brown hair is perfectly styled, and the rest of him is just as put together. His shoes look like they’re brand new, or he cleans them often. His jeans and shirt are all wrinkle-free. He looks like the kind of man who checks himself in the mirror before leaving the house.

Meanwhile, I spent last night sleeping against a tree trunk, and I’m sure it shows.

The guy hasn’t said a word. Is he in shock? Debating whether to call the cops? Or maybe he’s planning to get rid of me himself?

I shift under his gaze as his green eyes lock onto mine, and heat rushes through my body without warning.

What the heck? Has a lack of sleep finally made me delirious?

I’ve never been attracted to anyone. I don’t do crushes. I don’t date. Whatever makes other people look at someone and want, I’ve just…never had it.

Until now, apparently.

Because one look from this guy, and my body has suddenly decided to make up for lost time.

I take a step back. I need to get out of here before he calls the cops.

I’ve been on the run for days, and I’m tired and hungry. I don’t have the money to bail myself out of jail right now.

Gathering the last of my energy, I turn and take off.

Or I try to.

I make it about two steps before strong arms wrap around me, hauling me off my feet. He carries me into the house and kicks the door shut behind us.

I suck in a startled breath.

Oh God, now what?

“Let me go!” I scream.

I’m preparing to fight my way out of his grip when he sets me down.

“What the hell are you doing?” he demands.

I glare up at him. “What am I doing? What are you doing?”

He reaches for me again, but this time, he brushes his fingers across my cheek.

I jerk away and stumble backward into what looks like his living room. A couch is pushed against the wall under the window with a recliner next to it, and a TV is mounted over the fireplace, but not much else.

I frown as I look around. This is why I thought the place was empty. Aside from a few pieces of furniture, it has all the personality of a model home. Nothing that makes it look like someone actually lives here.