8. Amy

8

"You're my mate. The other part of my soul."

My heart squeezes, not so much at his words, but the anguished sound of his voice as he says them. His mate. I'm his mate. The other part of his soul. Soulmate.

My arms loosen from where they are tightly folded across my chest as I watch the handsome man looming in front of me. Every day I've worked at the diner he's come in during lunch and ordered a burger and a date. And every single time I turned him down. Refusing even the smallest conversation with him. And why? Because I was afraid. Because there was no way someone like him would really want a worn-out single mom barely able to make ends meet. Because I've been burned before, and I told myself that I'd learned that lesson.

"What does that mean?" My voice is little more than a harsh whisper while my mind churns. Soulmates aren't real outside of fairytales, so what is this beautiful man getting out of telling me this.

His hands, that are still gripping my dress, relax and softly stroke over the sides of my hips.

"Shifters believe that each of us have a fated mate out there somewhere. Someone who's soul fits ours perfectly," he explains. "The moment I saw you, I knew that you were mine."

"But how?" I ask him.

He shrugs. "Instinct, maybe? I don't know how to explain it. I just—knew."

"But I'm not like you. What if I don't feel it, too?"

"Don't you?" his eyes flash in an unnatural way. Preternatural. "I can't imagine the Fates being wrong in this. Are you saying you do not feel anything for me?"

My mouth opens but no sound comes out. I can't even find the breath to lie, because I feel…something.

Oh, please. I've wanted to climb him like a tree and ride that tree trunk of a cock that's pressing against the front of his pants since I first saw him. Every day at the diner, I wanted nothing more than to slide into his booth and curl up in his lap while he feeds me french fries. At night, when I'm all alone in my bed it's thoughts of him that warm me up.

Each day, he carved a notch out of my resolve to keep my distance, but shouldn't it be the other way around? Shouldn't he be the one struggling to feel attraction, not me. He's the adonis! With his untamed hair and chiseled inked skin. I'm just… me.

Nothing special, Amy.

Got pregnant instead of going to college, Amy.

Couldn't lose the post baby weight, Amy.

Wasn't able to keep her husband interested, Amy.

"You're thinking awfully hard to just tell me ‘No'," he laughs quietly. His hands are still stroking up and down my hips. The warmth of his hands seeping through the bunched-up skirt and into my spandex covered skin.

"This—is a lot to take in," I admit.

His hands squeeze before beginning their slow stroking again.

"Shifters are possessive and dominant. Especially when it comes to our mates. It's rare to see a fated couple stray, although it happens sometimes," he leans in. "If you're trying to compare me to your ex, stop that shit right now. I'm nothing like him. I vow to take care of you and your daughter with everything I have. With me, Molly will have a father figure she can look up to. And as my mate, you'll have my whole heart and the strength of my people at your back."

My heart lurches at the mention of my daughter and I suck my lower lip between my teeth and bite down, worrying it until the tang of copper hits my tongue. "How do you know about Molly?"

"The day your ex made the scene. The way he treated you. How he treated both of you," he says before his lips quirk up at the corners. "That was the first day I asked you out, remember?" I do. With a hot flare of embarrassment. "That is what I kept in my mind when I decided to send Yesenia to tell you about the auction, because I wanted to help."

"Who thinks of a sex auction as a way to help?"

"Me, I guess," his eyes slide to the side and a light blush tints his golden cheeks. In that moment he reminds me of a chastised little boy and it takes away some of my anger. It's sincere.

My mouth falls open, but nothing comes out. My mind is like a paint mixer, churning out so many thoughts and feelings…

"And I've been watching you," he continues sheepishly. The gentle rubbing starts to change. His fingertips press harder as he draws them over my hips and down my thighs, then teases with a lighter touch on the way back up, until I'm pressing my thighs tightly together to ease the ache that's becoming more and more noticeable. "I started following you to make sure you made it home safe."

I shouldn't like that. The way he says following me sounds a whole lot like stalking, and that should be a huge red flag. Instead, I lose a little more of the anger I'm trying to hold onto.

Our gazes lock and for several seconds we're frozen. Staring. Taking each other in.

"Okay." I hear myself say. I don't know if it's an, okay, I believe you. Or an, okay, you can fuck me now. Either way, I've decided I'm not going to fight him.

The strong muscles of his throat flex when he swallows and then his focus goes back to my body.

"What the hell is this thing?" he grunts out an exasperated huff as he runs his hands up under my skirt and over the shapeware.

It's a tank top and shorts combo thing that shows off an hourglass figure that is a lie. His fingers spread and then pinch trying to get a grip on the slippery yet strong fabric. Then his hands are pushing the rest of my dress up and over my head, tossing it over his shoulder before his fingers curl around the low neckline. He lets out an animal growl that has my whole body freezing just before he rips it straight down the middle, shredding the thick spandex like tissue paper.

I'm so surprised at his sheer strength that I lie under him completely immobile while he stares down at my exposed body. His expression is unreadable, and a cold rush of embarrassment hits me like the cool air that rushes in to surround me.

As the shifter's golden eyes make their way slowly up and down my body, my arms curl across my chest to try to hide some of my nakedness as all the ugly things Chad ever told me begin to echo inside my head.

Would it kill you to eat a salad?

I can see that gym membership I got you is going to good use.

If I would have known you were going to look like this, I never would have let you talk me into knocking you up.

I know exactly what he sees. Breasts that were once full and firm with high tipped nipples but are now deflated and droopy from nursing. A stomach that no matter how many sit-ups, carries a good portion of the extra weight I never lost after my pregnancy. And then there are the stretch marks. I wasn't one of those lucky women who ended up with some light scaring or no stretch marks at all. I look like I've been clawed by a wild cat. The entirety of my stomach is wrinkled and scored. Even my belly button looks stretched out.

I think the fact Chad couldn't accept my post pregnancy body was what finally ended our marriage. Believe me, there were many other things, but the constant put downs and his unreasonable expectations were more than I could bear in the end.

I turn my head away, unable to bear seeing the look of disgust that I know is coming. I got used to seeing that look plenty from Chad, but I know seeing it on this man's face will hurt.

"Please," I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut so I can't see the revulsion that I imagine. "You don't have to. I'll transfer the money back to you as soon as the bank opens."

The bed shifts under me and his grip is soft around my wrists. "No," he states simply. Then he pulls my arms apart so he can see what I'm hiding.

I chance a peek through my lashes, bracing myself. To my shock it's not disgust or horror looking back at me.

He looks… entranced.

Dark, hooded eyes roam over my exposed body. When his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip my pussy floods with a fluttery warmth. He reminds me of a predator like this, crouching over his prey. A gorgeous predator with the most beautiful tattoos inked into his side, that disappear into his pants. Branches twist up the entire length of his arm to a full moon that's etched into his shoulder. The branches continue across his collar bone to twist up his neck. But my focus is on the realistic cougar that covers the entirety of his right pec. Nose scrunched; gleaming fangs bared. It's done in all black except for a pair of golden eyes that seem to glow with their own light. Eyes that match his.

The man above me drags his gaze up to meet mine and the way his nostrils flare when he breathes me in, makes me almost moan.

"Oh, yeah. That's what I've been waiting for," he growls, as he drags another deep breath in through his nose and then finishes pulling the shapeware remnants from my body. Before I can push him away, he's sliding down my body and his hands are between my legs, pulling me apart so his head and shoulders can fit between my thighs.

"Oh!" I yelp at the first long lick of his warm tongue through my seam. My hips lift and my eyes roll back with the second stroke of his tongue. By the third his arms are locked around my thighs and my hands are digging into the back of his head, pressing his face deeper.

"That's it, baby. Let me hear how much you love this," he pulls back just enough to chuckle before flicking his tongue across my sensitive clit that has me jumping. "Fuck, you're so sensitive. Has it been a long time since anyone's gone down on you?"

A long time? You could say that.

"Never." I gasp as his tongue flutters maddeningly over my clit.

He stops suddenly and I whine as my hips lift, asking for more.

"Never?" He looks up from between my legs, surprise showing plainly on his face. "No one has ever worshipped this pretty pussy?"

"Never like this," I gasp, then moan when he runs his thumb through my drenched folds before circling my needy hole.

"Well, I'm gonna have to show you what you've been missing," his head disappears back between my thighs at the same time his thumb presses into me. "But first, I'm gonna work you up until your legs are shaking and you're moaning my name."

I laugh then, a short airy burst, when I look down at him again. "I guess you better tell me your name then."

His head pops up again, full lips glossed with my arousal, and he rubs his cheek against the inside of my thigh like a cat, "It's Dante."

"Dante?" For some reason that name doesn't fit what I imagined. "You don't really look like how I envision a Dante."

"Oh?" He smirks at me, turning to trace a row of kisses across my sensitive flesh. "What does a Dante look like?"

"I dunno?" The light little kisses and nips he's trailing up and down the inside of my thigh are distracting. "Like, some dark-haired mafia type maybe?" Not at all like this long haired, golden skinned god with the eyes of a predator.

He laughs and then bares a row of straight white teeth, except for two sharp canines. "Dante means steadfast and enduring," he says sinking his teeth lightly into my soft flesh. Then he drags his warm tongue across the place he just bit. "Shall I show you just how much I live up to my name?"

My breath explodes in a long moan when he drops his head back between my thighs and gets back to work licking and sucking and doing exactly that.