Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 44586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 223(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 149(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 223(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 149(@300wpm)
Nanish suddenly grabs my arm. “My heavens. She’s here. I feel like I’ve been slammed against a wall.”
I jerk my gaze to his to see him staring in the direction of the same open door through which my mate has still not emerged. There must be more than one female about to enter the main club.
Nanish isn’t looking at me. He’s still staring at the entrance. Suddenly he gasps. “Fuck, she’s injured.”
I shift my attention to the direction of his gaze and stop breathing. There she is. And yes, she is injured. But what the fuck is Nanish talking about? The female hobbling into the club on crutches is definitely mine.
Chapter Three
Nanish
I’m about to rush across the room when Bamgin grabs my arm. Coming up short, I turn toward him.
His eyes are wide. “Are you scenting the female who’s on crutches?”
“Yes.” I furrow my brows. Why does he look so pale?
“So am I.”
I flinch, taken aback. “How…” I twist my head toward her again. Could I be mistaken? But, no. Definitely not. It’s her. This may be my first night here in the club, but I would know her anywhere.
We stare at each other, both of us inhaling deeply over and over.
Bamgin swallows hard. “I guess we approach her and see what happens. It makes no sense. One of us must be wrong.”
I tense. I don’t really want him to join me, but he’s right. The only way to figure out what the hell is happening here is to go to her. I nod. There’s no other option. My pull toward her is stronger than my frustration that it seems to be shared by another man. All that matters is her and getting to her. The fact that she’s injured is increasing my anxiety.
Bamgin releases my arm, and the two of us make our way across the crowded room.
The female has moved with incredible speed. She’s tall. Taller than any other human in the room, including the males. She’s still more than a foot shorter than any of the Eleadians, but for a human female…
I don’t have doubts. Every step closer to her confirms what I know. She’s mine. But when I glance at Bamgin, I see the same determination in his expression.
She seems to be aiming for the bar, which isn’t surprising since she would probably like to sit. There are too many people in the way, though, and there isn’t an available stool at the bar. I can easily see this fact over everyone else’s head.
Stopping her forward momentum, she drops her weight down heavily on the crutches, her shoulders lowering in frustration. I can see the uncertainty about what to do next on her face, but I can also scent it wafting off her.
She’s mine.
As I get closer, I decide she’s about six-three. She’s also fit. She could probably take on anyone in this room in a wrestling match and win, even with the injury. Her left leg is in a brace from high up her thigh to her ankle. A knee injury I suspect.
My chest tightens as I imagine my mate in pain. I hate it, and I want to fix whatever it is immediately. I hope to the heavens it’s something the ship’s doctor, Dankin, can rectify quickly. His medical expertise and capabilities far exceed anything on Earth.
We reach her at the same time, me on her right, Bamgin on her left. Before either of us says a word, her breath hitches, and she straightens up taller, putting more weight on her right leg. She glances back and forth between us as we move around slightly, shoulder-to-shoulder in front of her. Blocking her. Pinning her with our frames. Surrounding her with our scents.
For the first time since I scented her, it’s clear to me that Bamgin is not wrong. We are both drawn to her. In some odd way I can sense his connection just as strongly as mine. It’s not that I feel any sort of connection to him. It’s that I’m aware of his magnetic pull to her that matches mine. It’s undeniable. I can’t make sense out of this. I’ve never heard of two men claiming the same mate. How the hell do we sort this out?
My Little girl is about six-three with thick brown hair that reaches just past her shoulders. Her skin is tanned, and for some reason, it instantly strikes me that she looks so good between me and Bamgin with his pale skin and my dark skin.
What’s most striking, however, and making my heart race, is her eyes. They’re the most unusual shade. Amber I suppose it’s called. A light brown with gold, red, and yellow flecks. They’re stunning. The colors make her eyes appear orange.
“Uh…” Her voice reaches into my soul. That one tiny sound. The pitch is higher than I expected for some reason. “I was trying to get to the bar,” she says, though the words are soft and seem to flutter in the air. She feels the connection already.