If I ever get a chance to tell Fate to hack off, I will enjoy it immensely. Why? Because that, uhm, rhymes with witch, has turned my perfect life upside down. What on earth was she thinking? Not only is that disarming charmer she forced into my life trying to get me to believe that he is an urban legend who has come to life, but he is also insistent that I am his fated mate. And his most absurd come-on line of all? I am somehow destined to sit beside him as his queen. Supposedly, I am the only one who can save the world from utter chaos and death. Who falls for stuff like that?

Not me. I just have to figure out what to do with this vampire who is causing every cell of my body to want to grab a hold of him with everything I have and never let go.

A Taste of No Escaping Fate — Now Available on Kindle

Becca closed the door and turned toward me. “I am not happy about being forced to share a bed with you.”

“I know,” I said. She would be even less so if she knew I could sense her interest.

“Then why are you forcing me?” she demanded.

“Because mates sleep together,” I said.

“I am not your mate,” she said, putting her hands on the hips I wanted to grab.

“Denying it does not make it go away,” I said.

“And saying it doesn’t make it so,” she countered.

“But claiming you will,” I offered.

“There will be none of that,” she said. I watched her walk over to the closet and pick up one of her shoes. She then walked over to the side of the bed I had left open for her and put the shoe on the nightstand.

“What is that for?” I asked, looking around her at the stiletto.

“The closest thing I have to a stake right now. More importantly, I am not afraid to use it,” she said, giving me a pointed look.

“What about the mess? Would it not upset Enid?” I asked.

“I will order Merry Maids. She will be fine,” she said.

She was being feisty. I had better keep it to myself that I loved seeing her like this. She glanced at all the decorator pillows I had set on the bench at the foot of the bed. She looked at me and then frowned. She grabbed several pillows and started lining them up along the middle.

“What the hell are you doing?” I asked, looking from the fluffy wall to her, and back.

“This is no man’s land. Cross it, and I will stake you. Mess or not,” she said.

I laughed. Loudly. “So, your master plan to save yourself the horrors of being well-loved is to create a wall of feathers?”

“It is. I use what I have available. If I cannot trust you to do what you say, we will never work out,” she said and gave me a challenging stare.

“If you trust me to keep my word, then why the wall of pillows?” I asked.

“These are for temptation,” she said, waving her hand above them. She climbed onto the bed, pulled the sheet and blanket up to her waist, and lay down with her back to me.

“I am noticing a trend regarding the number of offenses that will get me staked. Any other triggers about which I should know?” I asked. I tried to keep the humor out of my voice but was utterly unsuccessful.

“You snore?” she asked.

“No,” I answered.

“You hog the covers?”

“No,” I said, grinning since she was not looking at me.

“You plan on scaling the wall of pillows?” she asked. “You already hinted that you might.” She pulled the blanket and sheet up to her shoulder.

“I will require an invitation,” I said and then smiled. This was amusing. “What if I gathered you in my arms just to hold you close?”

“Staked,” she said.

“If I held your hand? Under the pillow fortress, of course,” I said.

“Staked.”

“Is there anything I can do that will not get me staked?” I asked.

“Breathe.”