“You don’t smell like my mate.”
I wasn’t sure how long it lasted, but there was a period of time where neither of us did anything, both of us taking a moment to process what he had said, allowing the those six simple words to bounce around the empty space around us. I would be lying if I claimed to understand what he was saying. How was it possible for me to not smell like his mate? I was his mate.
“Matthew? What the hell are you saying?”
If I had been watching myself from someone else’s point of view, I would have slapped myself. I wasn’t an i***t. I knew exactly what he had said, and I was smart enough to figure out what it had meant. The part that I didn’t understand—and I was sure that I wouldn’t be given the chance to understand it anytime soon—was why he had said it. Was somethi
