I felt sorry for a homeless little dog and brought it home. And in the morning, instead of the dog, I found a man in my bedroom. And he insists that I’m his true mate!
***
“Who are you?” I stare at the stranger, trying to figure out what I’m supposed to do.
“Anton,” the guy answers, looking at me with some kind of familiar blue eyes.
“What are you doing here, Anton?!” I tense up when he pulls the blanket back and stands up from the chair.
“You brought me,” he says with a stunning, dazzling smile.
“What?!” I jump out of bed, huddle up, and get ready to fight.
“You brought me—and you called me Tosha…” he hints at something.
Tosha?…
For Tosha—a dog—this guy doesn’t look at all. Unless it’s just in the eyes…
“Well then, Tosha-Anton, get out of here!” I lunge, twist the impostor, hooking my arm under his shoulder blade, and press on his neck.
“I can’t,” he doesn’t even resist.
“You’re my mate,” he exhales.