Page 68 of Sight of Fate

He flashes her a rare smile. “Guess that means we don’t have to take turns sleeping outside your door.” His head dips as he passes by. “That’s good. I’d much rather sleep next to you.”

Her jaw drops, and she swivels around to watch him walk out the door. She turns to me, a guilty expression on her face that makes me want to punch Macklin for not claiming her.

“I thought last night was a one-time thing. The three of us.”

I nearly groan at the image her innocent words conjure. “Did it make you uncomfortable? Sleeping with us both.”

Her quick headshake almost makes me smile.

“Good. That’s all that counts. Let’s get you packed up,” I say, draining the last of my coffee.

She bites her bottom lip and looks down at the clothes she’s wearing, but I wave a hand.

“You can shower and change once we get back. The clothes you wore last night have been destroyed.”

Macklin and I couldn’t stand smelling Gregor’s, the wolf she crushed with her car, and Martin’s scents on her clothes. It fed the fury riding us both. After she went to sleep, I got up and burned them.

Her relief is palpable.

It takes little time to pack up her stuff. Partly because she never really unpacked and partly because she owns very little. After we bring back the first load, I send her to take a shower while I return for the other items. I’m hanging everything up when I hear the bathroom door open.

“We’ll have to make sure we get the rest of your stuff out of your car,” I tell her. “But for now, everything fits in my closet.”

“Sounds good. I hope you don’t mind; I borrowed your robe,” she says, coming out of the steam-filled bathroom, an uncertain expression on her face.

“It’s not mine,” I remark, watching her fingers stroke the thick sleeve. She studies the length, then the sleeves, as if it didn’t occur to her that it would be too small to fit me.

She stiffens. “Whose is it?”

“I bought it for you.”

Pink flares across her cheeks. “For me?”

“After your first night here,” I say, keeping my voice nonchalant. “While you get dressed, I’ll hop in the shower.”

I pull off my shirt and head into the bathroom to shower. Keeping myself in check and my desire blocked, I stroll into the bathroom and shut the door.

Given how skittish she was when she arrived, I thought it would take us months to get her moved in. I was willing to wait. Let her get acclimated. Give her space.

Last night changed things. Hearing Martin’s threat and her screams, I’ve never been more terrified and helpless in my life. I thought I was going to lose her. If Andros hadn’t gotten there…

I step into the shower and scrub a hand down my face, trying to get the sounds playing on repeat out of my head. That motherfucker touched her. For a brief second, my skin hardens into grey stone as the gargoyle’s rage takes over. Their deaths were too easy. My nails lengthen into claws.

Martin and the other three lying in the morgue were lone wolves. But the fifth. I growl. It’s all I can do not to fly out to Lawson’s farm and decimate his entire pack. Guilty or innocent. And that’s exactly what I’ll do if Lawson doesn’t agree to hunt down and kill the bastard.

Breathing rapidly, I press my fists against the tile until the urge to wage war subsides. She’s here. Under our protection. In my bed. My arms. The urge to complete the bond riding me hard, but I refuse to rush her. When it happens, I want her to have no regrets.

Finishing my shower, I step out and wrap a towel around my waist. Not thinking, I walk back into the bedroom a minute later and find her dressed in worn jeans and a familiar black sweater, sitting on the floor, drying her long blond hair.

Fascinated by the image of my mate getting ready in our bedroom, I lean against the doorframe, watching her, and see all the years that went by without her. Not alone but lonely. Always searching and hoping for the person who was meant to share my soul. Share in the laughter. Drive me crazy. Make me a better person. And suddenly, here she is, and everything I thought I’d do or say went out the window. I’m left stumbling around like every other mate, trying to figure out how to give her all the things she deserves.

Her light green eyes widen, and the pink on her cheeks deepens, and I groan and tighten my grip on the towel. “Sorry, I didn’t think before I walked out.”

She shrugs and makes a shooing motion. “You’re making me nervous watching me dry my hair. Go away.”

“Never.”

Her breath catches, and her hand lowers. “Promise?” She tries to pass it off as a teasing joke, but I see the worry and yearning in the depths of her eyes.