Chapter 5
Rob
This should be easy.
I’m a decorated veteran.
A Navy SEAL who’s spent the last decade dropping into conflicts normal people would run from screaming if they even knew they existed.
I’ve hunted things that most folks would call monsters and come out the other side alive.
So, walking up to one curvy woman who makes ice cream?
That shouldn’t be a problem.
And yet here I am, standing across the street from Agatha’s Ice Cream, palms sweating like a damn rookie and my face heating up like I’ve been caught doing something illegal.
Snap out of it, my Tiger snarls inside my head.
The beast is pacing behind my eyes, impatient and agitated.
Move.
“Hold your damn horses,” I mutter under my breath.
My Tiger doesn’t care.
He’s already made his decision.
Mate.
The word rumbles through me like thunder.
And the next thought that follows nearly makes me choke.
Bite. Claim. Cubs.
I stop dead.
“Cubs?” I whisper.
What the hell?
“No,” I mutter, shaking my head. “Absolutely not.”
Yes, we want cubs, the beast argues immediately.
Mine. Mate. Cubs.
“Fuck me.”
This is not happening.
I just got back to town. I’m barely unpacked.
I’m still adjusting to sleeping in a real bed instead of a barracks or a tent halfway around the world.
The last thing I need is the Fates dropping a woman in my path and telling me she’s the one.
And yet, my gaze slides right back to the shop window.
Because she’s there.
Curvy.
Dark hair pulled into a messy bun with a few stray tendrils curling lovingly across her forehead and cheeks.
She has a pink apron tied around her waist as she scoops ice cream for a pair of giggling kids.
My Tiger purrs.
Fucking purrs.
Like I’m some overgrown house cat instead of an eight hundred pound lethal predator.
Mine.
“Stop saying that.”
You know it’s true.
“This isn’t going to be easy,” I mutter.
And I feel like a damn stalker standing out here watching her.
“Bro, you want some ice cream or something?”
I nearly jump out of my skin.
Reg and Gretchen appear beside me like they teleported.
“What?” I bark.
“Agatha’s has the best,” Gretchen says immediately, eyes sparkling.
My sister-in-law looks way too pleased with herself.
I scowl.
“Nah, I’m good.”
Reg snorts.
“You’ve been staring at the shop for nine full minutes.”
“I have not.”
“You absolutely have.”
Before I can finish telling them both to go to hell, something strange happens.
My feet move.
I’m not kidding.
One second I’m standing on the sidewalk.
The next I’m walking toward the shop like someone tied a rope around my waist and started pulling.
My Tiger is thrilled.
Mate.
“Shut up.”
The closer I get to the door, the stronger the pull becomes.
Fuck.
She’s close.
The bell jingles when we step inside.
Cold air and sugar hit me all at once.
The place smells like waffle cones, sprinkles, and strawberries.
And her.
Cookie dough laced with cinnamon.
Holy. Fuck.
My Tiger practically purrs loud enough to be heard.
There’s someone else working with her—a skinny teenager behind the register.
Every time she turns around the kid sneaks a look at her ass.
My vision goes red.
The Tiger surges forward instantly.
Mine.
Easy, I growl internally.
The kid looks about sixteen.
Still, if he checks out her ass again I might accidentally eat him.
“Next!” she calls brightly from behind the counter.
My heart slams into my ribs.
Her voice is warm and cheerful, like sunlight.
And suddenly, it’s our turn.
She looks up.
Our eyes meet.
And everything inside me—every instinct, every sense, every damn cell in my body—locks into place.
Mate.
Oh hell.
This just got a whole lot more complicated.