Page 5 of Relentless Touch

A pause. Then the sound of a stool scraping across tile.

Rio pulled out leftover roasted chicken, some bread, and a container of the roasted garlic spread that had been on tonight’s menu. He got a plate together without fuss, heated the chicken briefly, and slid it across the prep station to Kevin, who looked at it for a moment like he was trying to figure out the catch.

“No strings,” Rio said.

Those two words must’ve been enough. Kevin dug in like a starving man. Not messy, just fast.

“Chew before you choke.” Rio leaned against the counter across from Kevin and drank the last of his cold coffee, studying this mate.

Why was Kevin acting as if he didn’t feel the pull? He was a shifter and should’ve felt it by now.

Rio set his coffee cup down. “The guy who hit you,” he said. “You know if he’s from around here?” He wanted as much information as possible. Kevin had said they’d just met, but there could’ve been more to their conversation.

After swallowing, Kevin said, “I don’t think so. Said his place wasn’t that far. We were at a club called Threshold, if that means anything.”

“It means he’s out of his territory.” Rio considered that. “Did he follow you here?”

“I don’t know.” Kevin glanced toward the door. “I heard them in the woods. Possibly pack members. Then I lost them when I hit the road.”

Rio ran a hand over his jaw. His mind was split between Kevin’s problem—now Rio’s—and the marvel sitting in Rio’s restaurant kitchen. Finally, after 274 years, he’d found his mate.

More accurately, his mate had found him.

“You can stay here.” He made sure Kevin understood he had a choice, even if he didn’t. Rio wasn’t letting anything happen to his little impala. “We’ll figure out if they followed you.”

Kevin stopped chewing. “I’m sorry… we?”

“You stumbled into my restaurant.” Rio kept his voice even. “Which means what happens is my business.” He wasn’t going to call out that they were mates. Rio was waiting for Kevin to acknowledge their bond.

Kevin stared at him. Then the corner of his mouth slowly curled. “You’re very bossy for someone who just met me.”

“I’ve been told.”

“I’m just saying, most people lead with ‘hi, how are you, lovely antlers.’” He picked up a piece of bread. “You went straight to staying here until we figure things out. Very alpha energy.”

“I’m not an alpha.”

“Could’ve fooled me, pussycat.” Kevin held his gaze, defiance in his baby blues. “Do you have a last name, or is it just Rio? Like The Rock?” He frowned. “That’s two, but you know what I mean.”

Rio found this deeply entertaining. His snow leopard couldn’t stop encouraging him to bend the impala over and fuck him until they couldn’t walk.

“Vasquez,” he said.

“Rio Vasquez.” Kevin nodded, apparently satisfied. “Okay. That’s a solid name. Very telenovela.”

“Thank you.”

“That wasn’t entirely a compliment.”

“I’m aware.”

Kevin dropped his gaze back to the plate, and Rio let him eat, the kitchen settling into comfortable silence.

Thirty minutes later, Rio walked the perimeter of the parking lot.

The night air had cooled to the mountain chill that settled in after midnight, carrying pine and wood smoke from somewhere up the ridge. His breath didn’t fog, but the temperature had dropped enough that the back of his neck felt it.

He’d left Kevin in the kitchen with the plate and strict instructions not to touch anything on the stove. Kevin’s expression suggested he had opinions about being told what not to touch, but he’d stayed put.