Page 56

I rise from the bed. “I’m going to shower, and I’ll get you some stuff to clean up.”

She shakes her head. “I have my own products at home.” She starts to rise, and I extend my palm.

“Give me twenty minutes to get ready, and I’ll go to your place to get it.”

Her eyes narrow. “You can’t get into my place.”

A smile takes over my face. “Sure I can’t.”

I exit my bedroom and shower quickly before flying across town. I don’t even give a fuck if anyone sees my true form. My mate is at my house right now, waiting for me to bring her things. She’s relying on me. I return to my house about ten minutes after I left.

I pass Yue her items as she rises from the bed. Cupping her face, I tilt her gaze to me. "You hungry?"

She grins. "Starving."

“Get cleaned up and come to the kitchen.”

She hikes her thumb at the ruined sheets. “I was going to change them, but I don’t know where shit is in here.”

“I got it,” I reply. “I don’t want you to do anything but relax. That’s it.”

She rolls her eyes and walks her fine, naked ass to the bathroom. I walk toward the kitchen, barefoot on the warm hardwood. The kitchen is small with barely enough room for two people to stand sideways. However, the stove works, and there's food in the fridge. I pull out eggs, a bell pepper, half an onion, and the andouille sausage I bought from the corner store two days ago. The cast iron skillet goes on the burner, and I start chopping, the knife moving fast.

The oil pops in the skillet after a few minutes. I toss the sausage in first, and the sizzle fills the apartment. The smell of cooking pork floods the space. The onion goes in next, then the pepper, and I'm stirring when a knock comes, rapping against my front door.

I stop stirring, and the skillet hisses as I look at the front door. The knock comes again. Who the hell is coming over to my place without my permission?

"Hold on," I call out, wiping my hands on a dish towel, and I walk to the door.

My bare feet slap against the hardwood along the way, and I pull open the door. My mother stands on the other side. She wears a pale blue dress, set off against her warm brown skin. It’s the kind she wears to church. Her locs are held high, pulled into a silver-streaked bun. Her face is set in that expression I know too well. Her mouth is pressed flat, and her eyebrows are furrowed. Beside her, my father stands. He’s taller than she is, edging around the same height as me. His darker skin tone catches the morning light.

My father wears a button-down, sleeves rolled to the elbows, and he holds a paper bag from the bakery on Frenchmen Street. Behind them, hands clasped in front of her while she wears a soft yellow sundress, is a woman I know from pictures. It’s Zoey. Her long brown multi-colored locks hang to her waist.

My stomach drops. The floor under my feet feels like it tilts, and I grip the doorframe.

"Ekon." My mother's voice is cool. "We tried calling."

"I was—" I start, and then stop, because I don't have a finish for that sentence that won’t result in my mother slapping me. I was fucking. I could weave in a lie about sleeping. I tilt my head sideways. I was lying in bed with my mate, watching her hold a stone replica of my dick before she let me double-penetrate her. "I was busy."

My mother's eyes move past me, trying to scan the inside of my apartment.

I step into the doorframe and block the view. "What are you doing here? You said you would be here in three weeks. You’re early."

"You stopped answering your phone," my father says. "Your mother wanted to come. I said we should wait, so we came anyway."

"I brought beignets," Zoey says, her voice soft.

She holds up the bakery bag like it's a peace offering. Her eyes meet mine, and they glow with a warmth I don’t like. She doesn’t know me. The bedroom door creaks behind me. Yue’s feet hit the hardwood, and I shift sideways, looking at her. Yue appears in my T-shirt. It hangs to her knees. A frown blooms on her beautiful face.

"Ekon." My mother's eyebrows rise as she glares at my mate. "Who is that?"

“Ma,” I say, motioning toward Yue. “This is my mate. Her name is Yue Blackwood.”

My mother’s eyebrows rise. “Ekon,” she hisses. “You came here to—”

My gargoyle grinds under my skin. The stone on my chest shifts, appearing and overtaking my flesh. My eyes change, gray engulfing the brown. My mother steps back and her mouth tightens.

"Ma,” I interrupt her. “Watch what you say about my mate.”