“Of course, we are friends,” I say baffled. What an odd choice of words. Friend, buddy, pal, BFF – all of those are used on a daily basis, but mate?
“Not mates as friends … well, that too, but I mean like soulmates,” he explains, and I just stare at him in disbelief.
How can he possibly know that? We know each other for like thirty minutes. I do not know his favourite colour or drink and he does not know mine … wait, I do not know my own favourites. That is not important, I shake my head. This is a little too much too sudden.
“I … uhm … this,” I stutter as I step away from his touch. “This is a lot, Mason. Soulmates are for paperback romance novels, not werewolves.”
I turn around and walk away, I think it is time for Nova’s beef roast. If we are eating, we cannot talk.
“It’s because o
