Page 18 of The Tracker's Revenge
I mechanically went down the stairs, pondering his words. How did he know Jake and I hadn’t... fucked? Was it that obvious? Maybe the lack of sex was starting to show. Was I growing horns? No, not horns. Wings were more like it. I hadn’t been with anyone for almost two years. I was practically a saint.
Absently, I rubbed at my chest, at the phantom pain that still lingered.
Eric scrutinized me curiously. “Are you saying you love him so much it hurts?” He dipped his chin, his blue eyes falling to the twitching fingers over my breastbone, his steps still quick as they took the last few stairs and we hurried towards the garage.
I lowered my hand and was about to make a joke to dismiss the entire topic when I realized I couldn’t just let it drop. “Something like that.”
He narrowed his eyes with glinting amusement. “Everyone knows what that means.”
“Huh?”
“You’re mates, but that shouldn’t come as news to anyone.”
“What?”
“True mates. They’re not that common, but we have bigger issues to worry about, don’t we?”
I blinked, wondering why Jake hadn’t said anything? Maybe he’d thought I knew, and I guess I did. How could there be any doubt in my heart?
But Eric was right about thebigger issues. Things with Jake were complicated, but nothing like what was going on in the city. Rhabo rampant in the streets, Bernadetta Fiore and Stephen Erickson aligned in a quest for power, an Unholy Vessel that made monsters, and the witchlights knew what else.
Also, there was that immediate issue of meeting with the Pack Rule. Just the thought of it made my heartthumpfaster. I honestly wished Eric would let me skip, but I had no choice. He would drag me there if I refused.
Out in the large garage, Jake was waiting along with Rosalina and Ulfen Erickson. They turned in our direction as they heard our steps. Jake glanced at me knowingly.
I approached. “Hi, mate,” I said, using an Aussie accent.
He shook slightly as if a shiver had run up his back.
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“I’m not the kind who likes to state the obvious.” He lowered his chin and gave me a sexy wink that sent heat into my core.
God, the man could probably drive me to ecstasy with one wicked glance if he set his mind to it.
My mate. He was my mate. It shouldn’t have made a difference knowing this—I loved him all the same—but it did.
He was mine and no one else’s.
Eat your heart out, Allison Blackridge.
Shaking myself, I forced myself to return to the moment. I let my gaze rove around the garage.
Ulfen, like Jake, was wearing a suit and tie, but his hair and beard were untidy. He looked nothing like the collected, powerful man I’d first met when I was dating his son. Instead, he appeared exhausted and older, as if he’d worried away a few years of his life in the past week. It wasn’t surprising. During a short time, he’d been in jail, discovered his son was insane and a traitor, and called a Pack Rule meeting that would likely plunge his life into further chaos. The group hadn’t met in a long time. Things in St. Louis had run smoothly for decades, all the packs getting along and sharing the territory without major conflicts. Now, Ulfen and his son were seen as the catalysts for the unrest and for what seemed the end of a peaceful era.
Poor guy!
I felt sympathy toward him for, perhaps, the first time since I’d met him. It had to be hard on him to know that his own blood was responsible for the turmoil that threatened to undo the fabric of St. Louis’s Skew community.
Rosalina stepped forward and took my hands in hers. “Please be careful.”
I squeezed her hands back, wishing selfishly that she could come with us. But she wasn’t allowed since she wasn’t a werewolf. I knew it was better this way. She would be safer here in Eric’s house, where she would stay until we returned. But I would still miss her support.
“I will be,” I said.
She let go and disappeared back inside the house.
Ulfen inclined his head in a formal greeting. “Ms. Sunder.”
