Page 95 of Poet & Protector

“Here.” He handed me his phone. “Receipts.”

The screen showed a message thread between Ansel and Mason. I only had to scan it to see it was basically a play-by-play of Ansel’s triumphant conquest of his lady love on Sunday. The thread was long enough to be adapted into a novel.

“Ansel’s an oversharer, I see,” I grumbled.

“When he’s excited about something, yes.” Mason smiled. It was good to see color returning to his cheeks. “And he’s really excited about Bryn.”

I glanced at the phone again. “Oh god, he actually told you she tastes like snickerdoodles?”

“Read the next line.”

“And she says he tastes like salted caramel.” I grimaced. “Yeah, that’s something I didn’t need to know.”

“For some reason he’s really proud of the salted caramel thing,” Mason said, then grinned. “I guess it’s a good flavor, but nothing compares to⁠—”

“Stop.” I held up my hand. “If you tell me I taste like ice cream or any kind of baked good, I will never forgive you. You’ve already won your bet. I’ll be humiliated enough at lunch.”

Still smiling, Mason closed the small distance between us and took my face in his hands. He kissed me softly then nuzzled my neck before nestling against me, making a contented sound as I stroked his hair and ran my fingers up and down his spine. I was beginning to think I might be off the hook with this bet until Mason pulled back, looked up at me, and batted his eyelashes.

“So tell me, lover, what are you going to sing?”

* * *

The Mountain School

The cafeteria

“If I were a weal–thy…man!” I jumped off the cafeteria table and collapsed into the nearest chair, burying my face in my hands.

That was just…I was never, ever doing that again.

I felt Mason patting me on the head. I growled at him. If I didn’t love him so much, I would have bitten his hand off.

“What gives? Did Nev finally go off the deep end?” I heard Ren ask.

My alpha and Calla had walked into the cafeteria at the end of the song.

“He lost a bet,” Mason answered.

I lifted my face to glare at him.

Mason sighed. “It’s so sad to see an indie guitarist do show tunes. What have you been reduced to?”

I brushed my arms off, trying to rid myself of the lingering ghosts of jazz hands. “You know it was my personal hell. That’s why you picked it.”

If he kept gloating I was going to bite his hand off, love him or not. I could apologize for it later.

“A bet?” Calla asked.

“We got into an intense debate on Friday night at Eden,” Mason told her with a grin. “I was right, Nev was wrong.”

I tipped my cap at Calla. “Your brother has better moves than I thought.”

“What’s this?” Ren looked at me as he opened a Coke.

I jerked my head toward the source of my humiliation at the end of the table. Ansel and Bryn were making moon eyes at each other.

My alpha laughed. Calla’s reaction was notably less enthused.