The Fake Mate

This takes me by surprise. “What?”

“I mean, I assume that’s who it is. I don’t actually see Noah enough to know for sure—but it’s definitely strong enough to be an alpha.”

“Oh, I—” It hadn’t even occurred to me how others might be affected by my and Noah’s increasingly frequent nuzzlefests. Is it that strong for all the other shifters too? “Yeah, I saw him before I came back from lunch.”

“I just worried maybe you had a fight.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs aimlessly. “I mean, we’ve all heard the stories about Dr. Taylor. It was kind of a shock to find out you two were, you know . . . mated.”

I can’t pinpoint why, but the obvious incredulity on Liam’s face pricks something inside me. It’s not full-on annoyance, but it’s something incredibly close to it. “We didn’t fight,” I say tersely. “Pretty much the opposite of that, actually.”

I notice Liam’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh. Shit. I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be a dick. I just . . .” He scratches at the back of his neck. “It’s still weird. Getting used to it.”

I guess that’s fair. As far as my friends here are concerned, the story is that I lied to them for a year. I guess it’s reasonable to think they would be having a hard time coming to terms with that. Although, Priya hasn’t been too weird about it. Then again, I do talk to Liam nearly every day, so maybe that’s why he’s seemed off this week. Maybe he’s feeling awkward that I kept it from him for so long.

“Yeah, about that . . .” I stop what I’m doing, crossing my arms. “I’m sorry I never said anything. I know it’s gotta be super weird finding out like everyone did.”

“I get it,” he offers. “I guess it’s just . . . It’s hard to picture you with Noah.”

I cock my head. “It is?”

“He’s just so . . . serious.”

Noah’s barely-there smile and his quiet laugh crop up then, and despite everything, I find my lips curling slightly. “He’s actually not as serious as he likes to pretend. People just aren’t his forte.”

“So, you’re, like, really mated?”

I laugh at that. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know.” He throws up his hands. “Jessica from Radiology was telling us in the break room the other day that you might be in some sort of hostage situation.”

Fucking Jessica.

I roll my eyes. “I am not in a hostage situation. It’s all perfectly consensual, I promise.”

I can’t be sure, but something about the expression on Liam’s face looks almost wistful. Is he truly that worried about me?

“I promise,” I add, wanting to assure him. “I’m really okay. Great, even. Living the dream, and all that, you know.”

“Right,” he says with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Well, I’m glad to hear that, at least.”

“Seriously, don’t worry about me,” I say, playfully shoving his arm. “I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah.” He nods at me, looking a little more himself now. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry. Just worried, you know.”

“It’s fine.” I wave him off, wiping the lingering bit of blood from my now-neat line of stitches. “You can pay me back by taking Mrs. Kowalski’s vitals. She’s in room 408.”

He groans. “She’s not here again.”

“Absolutely again,” I laugh. “She has a ‘cough’ she’s worried about.”

“We need to prescribe that woman a friend so she can treat her hypochondria.”

“You know,” I say seriously, “I think she keeps coming back because she likes you.”

“You might be evil incarnate,” he huffs.

I make a fist save for my pinkie, bringing the fingernail there to the corner of my mouth and arching my brow. “Dr. Evil.”

“Nerd,” Liam chuffs. “Fine, fine. I’ll take care of it.”

My smile falters as he gathers up the used gauze to throw away on his way out, chewing at the inside of my lip as I consider the conversation we just had. I surreptitiously press my nose to my shoulder, and sure enough, there is a wave of Noah mixed up with me that washes over my senses, making me dizzy all over again.

“Hey, Li,” I call after him.

He turns, eyeing me curiously. “Yeah?”

“Is it really that noticeable? That I was with Noah?”

He frowns. “Pretty sure any shifter would be able to smell you from a mile away.”

I’m still thinking about it long after he’s left me; I was obviously aware that it would be noticeable, what we’ve been doing—I mean, that’s the whole point, after all—I just don’t think I had actually given it proper thought before now. I feel my cheeks heat as it occurs to me that everyone I work with has probably been discussing my supposed sex life with Noah Taylor, and I honestly can’t decide what is making me blush harder: the idea of people discussing it or just the actual idea of it.

This train of thought can’t be good for my health; just the brief fantasy of what Noah might sound like in my bed has me feeling too warm—and I actually reach to give both my cheeks a light slap to snap myself out of it. That’s definitely a dangerous line of thought. One to be tucked away, I think. I sigh as I get back to work, willing my thoughts to stay in relatively safe territory.

I’m still completely aware I have to ask Noah to dinner. Dinner with my gran. Dinner with my gran who will be smelling Noah all over me and most likely coming to the same conclusions as all my coworkers. Conclusions that involve me spending a considerable amount of time underneath the big, hunky alpha who is probably the hottest person I’ve ever dated—fake or no.

Fuck.





8





Noah





A week ago, dinner with Mackenzie’s grandmother had been little more than a potential headache. Just something I assumed I would have to get through.

Now the idea of it is fucking terrifying.

I’ve been trying to pick apart what happened in that supply closet for the last forty-eight hours, something that hasn’t gotten any clearer in the time leading up to me picking Mackenzie up for dinner. I am not certain of much about the incident, but of one thing I am absolutely sure.

I almost kissed Mackenzie.

It’s unreasonable, and definitely ill-advised, but for one singular moment, there had been no other thoughts in my head outside of the glaring need to feel her mouth on mine. Something about her scent affects me like a drug; not only do I crave more and more of it after each exposure, but I seem to lose all reason when I breathe her in.

I had thought that the distance we’ve had between the strange moment in my office and now would be enough time to collect myself, but being trapped like this in such a small space with her sweet aroma clouding around me brings back the same foreign urges that had struck me when I’d scented her the day before.

Lana Ferguson's books