The Girl He Marked by Laila Callaway novel Chapter 4

Paige's POV.

I swear to Goddess, if one more person tells me that I will meet my mate soon and not to worry, I might actually have to kill someone.

Twins often meet their mates around the same time. My twin met her mate three weeks ago. Ever since then, all I have heard is reassurances.

I'm sick of them. They don't understand how irritating it is to be told to be patient, to just wait and see. I've waited long enough.

Where is he

I'm so happy for my twin, don't get me wrong, but it sucks to be alone whilst she is loved up. It is particularly ironic that she didn't even want her mate. She was convinced she wouldn't have one, just like Dad was with our mum at first.

I take after our mum, Noelle, more than I do our dad, Xaden. Whereas my twin, Phoebe, is the opposite.

I've been patient. I've been calm. I've done my time, now, I want to meet him. I've been dreaming of my mate since I was a little child. I've pictured how we might meet a thousand times in my head.

I'm desperate but I know that I need to remain calm and not think about it too much. Things always happen when you stop trying to force them.

I run my finger around the rim of my coffee cup. My chin is resting on my hand as I people—watch out of the window.

As a nurse, I rarely get time to really relax and unwind. Going to this coffee shop is my refuge. It offers a relaxing, warm atmosphere.

The sounds of the hissing coffee machines, frothing milk and abundant chatter fill my ears. The air is permeated with the smell of roasted coffee beans.

I've been given two days off after working nights, and then I have the weekend.

I don't know what I'm going to do with the next four days of my life, but I thought I would start with a coffee in my favorite café.

My thoughts are interrupted by a young, human barista delivering two cups of tea to a couple in front of me.

He's wearing the required uniform, a green t—shirt and trousers.

The t—shirt is tight on his arms. He must work out a lot, his biceps are large. I run my tongue over my bottom lip as I check him out.

He straightens up and asks the couple if they want anything else. He scratches the back of his head, an action that is oddly attractive.

He has coal—black hair and coffee—brown eyes. His skin is caramel—colored, maybe West Asian Turkish or Syrian

He's beautiful.

He turns around, catches me looking, and smiles sweetly. He can't be more than a day over twenty. He's younger than me.

I can't seem to make myself look away. I watch him as he returns to behind the bar and continues making drinks.

I watch as his muscles flex as he pulls down on the handle on one of the machines. There's a look of concentration on his face as he pours the right amount of milk into the drink and taps the bottom of the cup on the surface.

My sharp eyes focus on his large hands. They grip the cup firmly, with the right amount of pressure. How would they feel around my breasts Squeezing and gripping them

'Ma'am' A voice snaps me out of my lustful trance.

I look up at the female barista, holding a tray next to my table.

'Are you done Would you like me to take your cup' She asks, gesturing to my empty cup.

'Yes, thank you,' I mutter.

I shake my head and try to clear my lustful thoughts. But I can feel how wet I am between my legs.

My eyes widen and my heart rate picks up.

Fuck.