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Mason laughed, sounding far more like Carson. “Trust me, I know the impulse to curse at him. He can be really annoying when he tries. Are we done with the you-holding-a-gun-on-me portion of this little family reunion?”
“I suppose so.”
Mason closed the distance between them and eased the shotgun from her grip, taking it back to the closet, laughing as he got there.
Amelia ran to join him. “What? By the way, it was like this when he showed it to me.”
“I would never have thought otherwise. Only my brother could have found the key. So, it was you on the radio?”
“But your voice isn’t the one that answered.”
Mason shook his head. “What a clusterfuck. Any chance Carson made something to eat and that there are leftovers? I think we should sit down like civilized people, share a meal, maybe some wine…”
“You should know we killed a great bottle of pinot.”
“Of course, you did. What are we eating, or do you want something different?”
“Shepherd’s pie made with venison.”
“Word of advice, anytime he offers a choice between shepherd’s pie or anything else, choose the shepherd’s pie. His potpie is on point, but he likes to make it with a biscuit kind of topping as opposed to pie crust and I prefer the crust.”
“Well then, I’ll make the crust, and he can make what goes inside. I’m not much of a cook, but I do love to bake.”
Mason wrapped his arm around her and gave her a quick hug. “You just became my favorite person in the family. I can make my way around the kitchen, but not like Carson. He’s been taking a lot of cooking courses in Iceland. I can’t bake at all, and I love desserts, but if you can bake artisanal bread, I may have to kill my brother and claim you for my own.” She pulled away and he laughed. “Sorry. It’s a long-standing joke between my brother and me. You have nothing to worry about from me. As you are my brother’s mate, that makes you my sister, which makes you off limits.”
She wasn’t sure why, but she believed him. “So that fated mate thing is real?”
He nodded. “I take it he turned you?”
“Yes. I was dying. He didn’t have any choice.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
“I am, but it doesn’t really matter. It’s not like you can change me back, right?”
“Right. Come on, let’s go raid the fridge and the pantry. Who picked out the wine?”
She grinned at him. “I did.”
“Then you pick the wine, and I’ll heat up our lunch.”
“Sounds good.” She entered the pantry door and selected another very good, very expensive pinot. “Are you rich?” she asked as she joined him in the kitchen.
“No,” he laughed. “I just enjoy good wine and living up here, I don’t have a lot of things to spend money on.”
“Why do you live up here?” she asked, opening the wine, grabbing a clean glass for him and a used glass from the night before for her. He stopped her, grabbed a second clean glass and handed it to her, removing the dirty glass from her hand.
“And bossy like your brother, as well.”
“We are twins, after all.” He finished heating the shepherd’s pie, dished it up, and brought two plates to the table. “Is he okay? The message he left was a bit disjointed. I didn’t get it until right before you radioed.”
“If you were there, why didn’t you answer him? He’s been worried about you.”
“He had cause to be. Once I got the message, I was going to head out to the meeting spot, but once I knew he was here, given the storm, I figured I could get here before you guys could get out. So, is he okay?”
She nodded. “For the most part. He overheard a conversation at work he wasn’t supposed to. It spooked him, and he bolted from Iceland.”
“Not the worst decision he’s ever made. How much do you know—about shifters in general, Carson’s work and what’s going on?”
