Page 40 of Sight of Fate

Macklin exhales. “I’ll go by there tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry about it. One little scar isn’t a big deal,” I tell them. If they only knew.

A stubborn expression crosses Macklin’s face. “It’s a big deal to us.” He takes a step back. “Have you eaten?”

For a moment, I don’t say anything. I thought Teague said he didn’t care about scars?

Teague shares a glance with Macklin, then clears his throat. “It’s not the actual scar that bothers us. It’s the fact that Andros caused it. We feel responsible.”

“You said he hadn’t had an episode in a long time,” I remind him.

Macklin crosses his arms. “Enough. If we can help by getting you the treatment, we will.” His deep voice is firm, as if arguing is useless. “Did you get dinner?”

Frustrated, but unwilling to make a fuss, I shake my head.

He tosses Teague a dirty look. “You should have picked up something.”

“She was asleep until thirty minutes ago,” Teague informs him, his lips twitching. “Then, we got into a discussion about mates.”

Macklin stiffens, and I freeze. Is he going to be upset about me and Teague?

“It’s about time,” he says, turning toward the living room. “Hopefully, once everyone knows, they’ll stop trying to shake your hand. I planned to grill steaks tonight before all this happened. Does that still sound good?”

I look at Teague, but he smirks. “He doesn’t give a damn what I want. He’s asking you.”

“Oh. I haven’t had steak in years. That sounds amazing,” I answer.

“How do you like it cooked?” he asks.

“Medium rare,” I return with a smile. “Thank you.”

Macklin leaves, and I turn to Teague. “What did he mean? Why is everyone trying to shake my hand?”

Teague’s eyes flare with irritation. “Most supernaturals have more than one mate. When you shake another’s hand, you can immediately tell.”

“Like us,” I muse. “Is that why Alex and Leif wanted to shake my hand?”

A tic appears along his jaw. “Leif took advantage of an old law, rarely enforced these days. When we were building Greystone, mates were scarce. Newcomers were asked to shake everyone’s hands even if they weren’t interested in having a mate.”

“I see. Well, some good came of it,” I reply, wondering if Leif found his daughter. I’ll have to go by the Wolf’s Den and check.

He motions to the door. “Let’s go before Macklin has a fit.”

As I pass by the mirror, I gasp at my reflection. A large white bandage is taped to my forehead near the hairline, and the skin underneath is already darkening with a bruise. My face has been wiped clean, but there is dried blood on my neck and the collar of my shirt.

With a grimace, I turn to Teague. “Do I have enough time to go home and wash up? Change clothes?”

Something flares in his eyes. “I’m not sure I can let you out of my sight. Can I come with you?” When I hesitate, he strides over to the dresser and opens a drawer. “Or you can take a shower here and put on some of my clothes?”

My refusal is on the tip of my tongue; I don’t like the idea of him seeing the unpacked boxes and asking me a bunch of questions I’m not ready to answer. But the thought of being alone has my stomach cramping too. I bite my lip as I go back and forth.

“I’d be more comfortable taking a shower at my place,” I tell him. “Do you mind?”

After slipping on a shirt, he hands me my shoes. The same ones I kicked off at the door to Andros’ office. When I back up a step, he nods in understanding.

“Right.” He tosses them in the corner and sweeps me off my feet and into his arms before I can protest. Then he hands me my purse. “Ready?”

“I can walk,” I protest. He, of course, ignores me.