Chapter 2
Felix
Iam not ready for how hot he is.
Just coffee. Easy.
And then he looks up.
Tall. Broad shoulders under a faded black T-shirt. Scowl like he was born with it. Perfectly placed light brown hair that should not be that attractive at this hour. And a voice that slides under my skin when he says:
“Ben. I’m not your boss. Just here to keep you from poisoning anyone.”
And then it happens.
Boom.
Just like that.
Mate.
My brain short-circuits. My wolf lunges forward like it’s been asleep for years and just woke up with a hard-on and a mission.
Mine.
I freeze with my hand still outstretched and every cell in my body yelling something different:
Introduce yourself.
Sniff him.
Do not sniff him.
Lick his neck.
Definitely do not lick his neck.
I smile instead. It’s the only thing I can do that feels remotely human.
“Felix,” I say, like that’s not the most normal thing to say when your literal fated mate just insulted you.
He takes my hand. It’s rough and warm and the bond pulses between us like a second heartbeat.
He pulls back fast. Like he felt it too and didn’t like it.
Or maybe he just doesn’t like me…
Cool, cool, cool.
“Right. Aprons are over there. You’ve worked in a café before?”
I move to the aprons like I’m not still buzzing from his scent. It’s not just that he smells good. It’s specific… like cedar and coffee and something I couldn’t describe even if I tried. It hits right at the base of my spine, where instinct lives.
I’m officially a mess.
“Couple times. Don’t worry, I’m a quick learner,” I say, because if I don’t say something, I’m going to start howling..
I wash my hands at the triple sink. The hot water feels grounding. I hum. I don’t even realize I’m doing it until I catch him watching me—just for a second—before he looks away and takes a sip of his drink like I’m a mildly annoying podcast he can’t turn off.
I pretend to know what I’m doing as I start checking the pastry labels. “Banana nut, apple crumble, lemon—ooh, cinnamon swirl.”
“Don’t eat one unless you pay for it,” Ben says without looking up.
I grin. “What if I just smell it?”
He raises an eyebrow like I’ve just asked if I can lick the counter. “Still theft.”
I bite back a laugh. He’s so serious. So tense. I want to poke at him just to see what happens. I also want to crawl into his lap and purr like a cat. Which is… new.
The bond is messing with me.
Usually, this sort of thing doesn’t happen so fast. At least, not according to pack stories. But this isn’t some shifter bar hookup. This is him. My mate. Fate.
And he clearly has no idea.
Which means he’s either deep in denial… or human.
I steal another glance as he calibrates the grinder. His forearms flex. My thighs clench. He has this quiet, heavy energy like he could crush me with one hand but would apologize afterward. Which hey, might be nice.
I hum louder just to give myself something to do.
“Do you always sing your way through inventory?” he mutters.
“Only when I’m happy.”
He pauses. Doesn’t look at me. But the corner of his mouth twitches.
Oh.
Oh no.
I think I like him.
Like—really like him.
Like name our future dog and build a porch swing levels of like.
I duck behind the pastry case and pray that I don’t blow this.
I have no plan. No clue how to act normal when my entire body wants to imprint on a man who definitely thinks I’m annoying. But I’m here. In this café. Working mornings. With him.
And for now, that’s enough.
Even if it’s killing me.