Page 72 of Claimed

“Glad to hear it. And you don’t. Believe that. Kiss your mate, woman,” he orders, sifting his fingers into my hair.

My mate.

Yes, he’smine.

I lower to do so, but my body gives out on me at the same time as emotions well up so big inside me that a flood of emotion bursts from me. Tears, sobs, the whole shebang. But Greyson starts purring immediately as he turns me to my side and wraps both arms around me. I burrow into his chest, pressing my lips there.

He doesn’t ask me why I’m crying. I think it’s because he feels it – feels this immense connection between us. It’s a bond with depth and strength that I could never have fathomed. And I feel from him that he’s in this moment with me, feeling the same thing.

Oh my stars… I might already love this man. I never imagined romantic love to become a part of my fabric, my very core, but as I lie here connected to him physically as well as emotionally, fear slams in and grips me in a stranglehold. Because my brother could and will absolutely try to ruin this for me.

“No,” Greyson says firmly, “What you know of me so far, do you not see that I’ll protect you with everything I have, everything I…fucking… am?”

I squeeze him tighter, both loving and being embarrassed by how he can read me so well. I want to believe. I really, really do.

“You’ll see,” he vows, tipping my chin up and pressing his mouth to mine while his other hand sifts into my hair.

After a few minutes of it, I dare to ask, “Did you speak to Wyatt on the phone?”

“Left him a voicemail message.”

I swallow before a slow exhale.

“Forget Wyatt for now.”

I wish I could.

“Hungry?” he asks.

“Yes.”

He playfully slaps my bottom and moves us to an upright position.

“Let’s go tackle that snack plate you started on.”

***

While we’re at the kitchen island, snacking on the stuff I’d put out with the addition of leftover roasted chicken and some leftover pasta, he asks, “So, Bailey your new partner in crime?”

I smile. “She wanted to loosen me up and make me more comfortable. I like her a lot. She’s really nice. Sent over a bunch of clothes, too, which is good since I don’t have much, and you ripped one of my few pairs of undies.” I flash a smile.

“Got your suitcase from the motel,” he says without humor. “Sent it to one of our trackers to memorize the scents of your brother and the betas who were here.”

I blink in surprise. And I feel a little embarrassed. And a little concerned. I had left some money hidden where I hoped Jimmy wouldn’t find it. I also had some inexpensive gifts tucked away for some of them at home. Nail polish and lipsticks for the girls. A Halloween book by a local author and some butterfly hair clips for little Halla who loves spooky stories. Comic books for my sixteen-year-old cousin, Lucas.

Lucas will mourn Jimmy, his older brother. This makes me sad. Not because Jimmy is a great loss to the pack. Jimmy was driven by nothing but greed and baser urges. Rare to see an ounce of kindness or empathy in him. But I’m sad because of how Lukey will feel. One of Jimmy’s few redeeming qualities was that he was protective over his little brother. But he wasn’t the best example and I constantly worried about that, trying delicately to remind Lucas that he doesn’t have to follow in his brother’s footsteps.

There’s also the rest of the herb mixture I hid, too, under the liner of the suitcase. I bite my lip, my thoughts again flitting to Malachi. I wonder, not for the first time, what transpired between him and my brother after I left to come here. Wyatt obviously started pulling him into the inner circle by the fact he sent him here with Jimmy.

“Eat up, fuel up. We’ll go for a run if you want,” Greyson says, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I survey the food that’s taking up most of the large kitchen island. I’m not usually such a glutton. Then again, I’m not accustomed to having so much food available and I have to admit, I’m a little worried about some of it spoiling before we get a chance to eat it. Letting food go to waste is probably considered an even bigger sin than gluttony in Silver Hills.

It must have been the alcohol. And Bailey who egged me on.

“I wonder how Bailey is feeling,” I say.

She told me she wasn’t much of a drinker and felt the booze as fast as I did.

---