Humming along with the music coming through the speakers, she did her best to drown out the irritating squeaky wheels. If she could just—
“You’re good at ignoring people, aren’t you, Gwen?”
“Dude, I’m so good at it, I can make people doubt that they’re actually alive.”
Zander’s mouth quirked, even as his nose wrinkled in distaste. Most guys didn’t like shopping. For Zander, it wasn’t the stores themselves that annoyed him. It was the fluorescent lighting and the clash of scents—fruit, meat, detergent, flowers, bread, soaps. The smells didn’t mix well at all. “You haven’t checked your list once.”
“I have it memorized.” Not really. She just liked to browse and grab some impulse buys. Spotting Marlon’s preferred brand of hot chocolate, she sighed. It had to be on the top shelf, didn’t it? Gripping one of the metal shelves for balance, she reached up to grab the tub. No joy. She glared at Zander. “Are you going to watch me struggle?”
“That position pushes out your tits and your ass, so, yeah.”
She rolled her eyes. “Boys. You’re all the same.” But he reached up, nabbed the hot chocolate, and dropped it into her hands. “Thank you,” she said.
“You’re welcome.” As they began to walk again, Zander spoke, “Last night—”
“We don’t need to talk about it.” It was both a statement and an assurance.
“Yeah, we do.”
She clenched her hands around the cart handle. “You don’t need to gently tell me that it was a one-time thing. I already get that. I’m sure I looked damn stunning while you were wearing Beer Vision, but I know the reality is very different.”
Zander frowned. “The reality?”
“You’d been drinking, you—”
“I wasn’t drunk. I knew what I was doing. I knew what I wanted. If my Alpha hadn’t called last night and interrupted us, I’d have taken you right there.”
She bristled. “I wouldn’t have fucked anyone in the kitchen, right where any number of people could have walked in.”
“Don’t kid yourself, Gwen. It would have happened.” He paused as she stopped to grab milk. “Unfortunately, it didn’t. But it will.” He’d make sure of it. “I have to know.”
“Know what?”
“What it’s like to be in you. Taking you. Tonight, I’ll have you under me. Why do you look so shocked?” He leaned forward. “I like sex, Gwen. I like it a lot. I like having it often. I intend to have it with you. Repeatedly.”
More than a little surprised by the direction the conversation had headed, Gwen exhaled raggedly. While the thought of being under him held some appeal, she knew better. Careful not to squash the brownies, she placed a heavy jug of milk in the cart. “It’s not gonna happen.” The words came out hoarse, so she cleared her throat and firmly added, “It’s just not.”
The hell it won’t, thought Zander. He put his face close to hers. “You think I can’t tell that you want me?”
Oh, Gwen knew he could sense it. He was a shifter, so he’d be able to scent that she wanted him. And that left her feeling vulnerable and exposed. Grabbing the cart, she hastened her step as she took a sharp turn around an aisle . . . and shuddered. She hated walking down the frozen-food aisle; the chill always gave her goose bumps. Well, at least it might cool her down and calm her libido. That would sure be helpful.
Seizing the cart, he dragged it to a halt. “Look at me, Gwen. Come on, baby, look at me.”
She met his gaze . . . and swallowed at the sheer intensity there. “What?” she rasped.
“You’re running from me. From this. Why?” He cocked his head. “Is it because I’m not human? Does that freak you out?”
“No,” she said immediately, not wanting him to think any such thing. “You don’t freak me out in any way.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
She jutted out her chin. “I don’t get involved with people who’re spoken for.”
“Good. Neither do I.”
But he was spoken for, because . . . “You’re a shifter.”
“I’m well aware of that,” he said, impatient. He had no idea where she was going with this. He thought it best not to comment on how cute she looked when she lifted her chin like that.
“You have a true mate waiting for you somewhere out there. Kissing you last night . . . I feel like I touched something that belonged to someone else. And now I feel shitty about it.”
Understanding, Zander sighed. He hadn’t expected the true-mate thing to be an issue. It wasn’t something that had ever bothered anyone before now. Given that Gwen Miller was a female with principles, it would have occurred to him to expect that response if she’d been right. But she was human and didn’t seem to properly understand the way it worked.
He rested his hand in the crook of her neck and caressed the column of her throat with his thumb. “You’re right that I have a true mate, but who says she’s waiting for me, Gwen? She could be imprinted on another. She could be someone who doesn’t want a mate. She could be someone I never meet for any number of reasons.”
Gwen frowned. “Imprinting is when two people who aren’t true mates form a mating bond, right?”
“That’s right. It happens more often than you’d think. I know several imprinted couples. One of my closest friends imprinted on a female not so long ago; their bond is as strong as any I’ve seen between true mates.” He skimmed his finger over her cheekbone. “My uncle died recently.”
She winced. “Sorry to hear that.”
Zander shrugged. “I didn’t know him well. He searched for his mate all his life. He never found her, and he died alone. He told me in a letter he’d written shortly before his death that I shouldn’t spend my life doing the same. I never intended to anyway because, for me, searching for my mate would be pointless.”
She tilted her head. “Why?”
“Several things can block the frequency of the mating bond, including doubts and fears and mental walls. Did you know that?”
She shook her head. “Let me guess. You have mental walls that are sky-high.”
A smile tugged at his mouth. “You could say that my boundaries are more extensive than most.” And he feared mating, in part, because he liked to be in control of himself, his life, his choices. Finding his true mate would take some of that control away.