Page 33 of Midnight Mate
“So we’re actually bonded now?” Clint turned his head to study Bayne’s profile. “What exactly does that entail?” Maybe he should’ve clarified a few things before his hormones had taken over.
“For shifters, it means everything.” Bayne’s fingers found the bite mark on Clint’s shoulder, pressing gently. “You’re mine now. Officially.”
Mine. The possessiveness should’ve irritated him, but instead, it felt as if something had finally settled inside of him. Like he finally understood the true meaning of home.
“That would explain why I feel like I’ve known you for a lifetime,” Clint said. “Which is completely insane, but so is everything else.”
Bayne’s hand stilled on his stomach. “The bond recognizes what’s meant to be. Time doesn’t matter.”
Meant to be. Clint wanted to argue with the concept, point out that destiny was just pattern recognition and confirmation bias.
Still, Clint couldn’t argue with how good it felt to just lie there. Sheets clung to his skin, sticky from sweat and sex, but he didn’t have it in him to care. Not when Bayne curled in behind him, a thigh heavy over his legs, big arm banded around his waist.
His lungs filled with the wolf’s scent, a mix of wild and human, and there went that feeling again. Warm skin, a heartbeat thudding at his back, and the soft, questionable purr of a cat who’d taken up sentry duty at the foot of the bed. The air smelled like laundry, sweat, and the last trace of garlic from lunch.
Home.
He let himself drift, content to let his mate’s weight anchor him, even if the man ran a dozen degrees hotter than the average space heater. A dry laugh almost slipped out. Soul bonds, supernatural sex, and now spooning.
Life was weird.
His life was even weirder, so he might as well embrace the chaos.
He would, right after a forty-hour nap with…his mate. Much better word than boyfriend.
Sleep started to pull him under when he felt Bayne tense. Seconds later, the doorbell rang.
Bayne stayed rigid, his hand pinning Clint in place like a warning.
Someone was at the door, and judging by Bayne’s reaction, it wasn’t the Girl Scouts.
Chapter Nine
Bayne lunged from the bed, yanking on his sweats with such force the denim nearly tore. Whoever stood at that door had just signed their death warrant. If Vaughn had tracked them here, the promise he’d made to let the crows eat the son of a bitch would become reality.
Glancing back, he saw Clint scrambling into his scrubs, bare ass flashing as he flailed for balance. The sight sent heat curling through Bayne's belly despite his rage. Their time together had barely begun, but apparently murder needed to come first before he could worship his mate properly.
“Hang back,” Bayne said, dying to take Clint back to bed and forget the world existed outside their four walls.
He stalked down the hall as his wolf shot so close to the surface it blurred the edge of his vision.
The beast wanted blood. The urge to shift flickered in his bones, promising pain if things got ugly.
The floorboards creaked under his bare feet, followed by the hush of Clint’s steps behind him. A quick glance over his shoulder was all it took to remind Bayne what was at stake.
His mate, hastily dressed, came right along, despite the warning Bayne had given him. Even covered in sex sweat with a fresh bitemark on his shoulder, Clint was the most beautiful man Bayne had ever seen.
At the door, Bayne held up a warning hand. “Stay back,” he said, voice already rough. Apparently, the wolf was helping with the vocabulary now, too.
Clint didn’t reply, but his mate didn’t budge either, just hovered a step behind with his hand tangled in Mabel’s scruff. Maybe the cat was meant to be an emotional support companion in case Bayne lost his mind during the altercation.
Hopefully he wouldn’t need it.
Pounding at the door rattled the hinges. Hell of a way to wreck a postcoital nap.
Bayne pressed his palm flat against the wood, body blocking the entrance. From the other side of the door came silence. Whoever this was, they waited with the patience of someone who’d spent years on stakeout.
Shifting his weight, he let his voice drop to a threatening tone and barked out, “Who the fuck is it?”
