“She’s not my mate.” “Obviously.” I nod and force myself to chill out. This is bullshit. Now I’m hot, sweaty, and uptight. And I got a semi from thinking about a sleep huddle, and Tye’s eyeing it. “If she were my mate, I’d know.” The bond is unmistakable. That’s what everyone says. “Of course.” “I wouldn’t have been able to reject her.” A male cannot resist his mated female. It is known. Tye nods slowly. He’s not saying something. He’s got that douchey know-it-all look he gets when he’s watching his mouth. “What? Spit it out.”
