My eyes rise and rise to meet his. The shadows keep the details hidden, but his strong jaw and large frame tell me he is much older than me. After what seems like years passing, he takes one step closer and clenches his fists. Dark hair falling just past his ears blows back from his rugged face showing me his scruffy jaw tensing repeatedly. Fear lashes at me, not from this man but from not knowing what’s next. I’ve never heard of mates meeting so young. It happens after the first shift, not before.

“Mate,” he utters so deep and quietly that I almost miss it, but his voice soothes my nerves.

The door opens again as a group of boisterous men and women stumble out. Only seconds have passed when a gorgeous blonde grabs his arm and slides her hand into his, looking at him with love clearly written on her face. He doesn’t push her away, nor does he look away from me. We stand frozen as the world moves around us.

One of the men slaps him on the back and says, “Mase, you missed it, man. Roxanne just slapped that girl that kept staring at you all night.”

He turns to the man that was just speaking, and the spell is broken. I look down, rubbing my hands across my belly, not sure what’s happening when the same man speaks again, “Who’s the little lady?” Head cocked to the side like he’s trying to figure me out. By this time, I have everyone in the group’s attention. Stepping back from the weight of their stares, I fumble with the sweatshirt I retrieved from the car.

The blonde woman slits her eyes at me and asks, “Mase?”

“No one,” he growls. The ache in my stomach instantly moves to my chest, hollowing it out.

No one, I repeat in my head.

“I almost ran into her when I came out just making sure she’s okay,” he grates.

“She looks great to me,” the other man says as his eyes run up and down my body making me squirm. A low rumble sounds and everyone freezes turning to him.

“Don’t,” my mate says. To me, to them? I’m not sure. Everyone in the group is still frozen staring at him, except for her. She looks at me. I would run if my feet would let me, to him or away from her, I don’t know that either.

“What’s your name, little girl,” she spits like a viper.

I open my mouth to reply when I hear my father call, “Sophia.” I turn to his voice and hear from behind me, “let’s go. Now!” Spoken like a curse from my would-be mate.

My mom and dad reach me seconds later, asking if I was okay and why I never came back.

“I’m not feeling well, Dad,” I say, and it’s no lie. The hollow ache in my chest intensifies as I rub just above my heart.

“Okay, sweetheart, let’s get you home,” he says, looking to my mom questioningly. We turn toward the car when I see him holding the woman’s hand. Roxanne, I’m guessing. They’re almost around the corner. He doesn’t look back once before walking out of my life.