'Huh? What does the cub mean? My future mate? Did the cub overhear some gossip from the clan!?'
"No." Silas Thornton's brow furrowed. His tone was deep, and his dark eyes were fixed on her. "I don't have a mate."
His tone was firm, his expression solemn, as if he were clearing up some colossal misunderstanding.
Holly Wyatt's mouth twitched. Realizing Silas Thornton might have misunderstood, she quickly wrote, "That's not what I meant. I'm not asking if you have a mate right now. I'm asking if you've ever thought about what your future mate would be like?"
Based on her assessment of Silas Thornton's inner voice this past week, she had a vague feeling that he might like her.
She didn't dare ask him directly, so she could only probe indirectly like this.
Her round eyes, half-hidden by her heavy bangs, stared intently at Silas Thornton. Holly Wyatt nervously licked her lips.
