Page 83 of Wrongfully Magicked
It should freak me the fuck out, since I don’t do connections or attachments, but he’s different. For the first time in my life, I know what it feels like to have a home, and I will do anything to protect it, including removing any threat.
Which leaves me just one option.
My family must die.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
SOREN
With my back to the room, I watch the tub fill, giving Anita and Stryker a moment of privacy. Maybe I should be jealous, but my hellhound is pleased by her choice in mate. Though we have no reason to trust him, it’s obvious the leopard is completely smitten. He would give his life to keep her safe.
There is only one way that happens—his beast is a compatible mate. It’s physically impossible for him to harm her—his beast wouldn’t allow it. Sure, people could force a mating with a bite, but the bond never fully forms. A true mate is different. It’s where the beast selects their mate, the person created specifically for them. No one can force a beast to choose a mate against their will.
I quietly shut off the water, then turn toward the newly mated couple, smirking when I try to figure out who’s trying to keep whom upright. They are both so exhausted, they are barely staying vertical, and I quickly take charge.
“Stryker.” I grab his shoulder and guide him toward the showers. “Get in and clean yourself up.” It’s an order, one that he’s too exhausted to fight. “Then go get something to eat and find a bed. I’ll take care of our girl.”
He searches my face for a moment, as if debating whether or not he could trust me with his most prized possession, then he nods once before reluctantly passing a near comatose Anita into my arms. If I wasn’t also her mate, he would have ripped my throat out for even suggesting such a thing.
He leans down, kisses her forehead once, then inhales deeply, like he can’t go without breathing in her sugar and spice scent one last time. He staggers toward the shower, stepping behind the glass enclosure, then cleans himself almost distractedly, watching my every move.
My attention is stolen when Anita snuggles into my chest with a sigh.
She stiffens a second later, and a furrow appears between her brows. Her amber eyes flash open, then narrow dangerously when her gaze locks on me.
I wait for her to demand she be released, and my arms automatically tighten around her in protest. I don’t move as I wait for her order, not daring to even breathe.
From the instant I laid eyes on her, I accepted that she is my mate, but she’s been fighting it every step of the way. It makes sense since she is a mage. They don’t have the same instincts as beastlings.
I’ve done my best to give her time, but my beast is being clingy. The only reason I’m able to remain calm and not act like a caveman is because of her marks on my arms. Though she doesn’t wear my bite yet, I’m content to wait.
For now.
After a long moment, where it feels like she’s peeling back the layers of my soul and judging my worth, Anita sighs then restsher head against my shoulder. When her eyes drift shut, I inhale sharply at her silent acceptance, my chest puffing up in pride. My beast howls in victory at her surrender, and I lovingly nuzzle the top of her head.
I step toward the tub and slowly lower her into the steamy water. She groans, clinging to me for a moment, and I hold her suspended. When she finally relaxes, I ease her all the way into the tub, and she melts into the water with a groan.
Before I can straighten, she grabs my shirt and peers up at me from under her lashes. Her attention flicks toward Stryker, then lands back on me, confusion clouding her eyes. I reach up and give her hand a comforting squeeze. “I’m not going anywhere. Just sit back, relax, and let me take care of you.”
She purses her lips, nibbling on the corner of her mouth before she reluctantly untangles her fingers from my shirt. Once released, I collect every hygiene product in the bathroom, then sit behind her and gently wash her hair, massaging the shampoo into her scalp.
She groans, leaning into my touch, and my heart thumps hard against my ribs. My cock hardens at her submission, my fangs aching, and I quickly close my mouth to resist temptation.
Focusing on my task, I rinse out her hair, then do it all again with the conditioner. I take my time as I work the product into her dark strands, starting at the ends and working my way up. Being able to pamper her soothes my beast, and contentment settles in my chest.
As a creature from the demon realm, I never dared hope for a mate, but my beastling refused to accept defeat. My hellhound demanded I learn how to take care of a female properly—how to pamper a woman, what kind of food they would eat, any kinds of gifts one might demand, researching how to wash their hair, and even learning about what they needed while they menstruated.
I never realized how satisfying it would be just to be able to take care of her.
Done with her hair, I leave the strands trailing over the rim to dry, then move to kneel at her feet. Her eyes crack open just a fraction to watch me, and my beast gives a soft purr, loving the attention.
Not looking at her, I grab a cloth and lather it generously. With suds clinging to my hand, I slowly reach into the tub and capture her ankle. I don’t look up at her as I lift her leg out of the water and begin washing her.
When her eyes drift close again, I finally relax and continue with my task. I move from one leg to the other, then shift to work on her arms. With each pass of the cloth, I feel the bond between us strengthening.
The shower shuts off abruptly, and we both turn when Stryker steps out naked. It’s only then that I see the trail of tiny paw prints crawling up his neck and creeping behind his ear. Further up, an intricate red and black dot matrix mandala fills the inner shell, the image fading slightly as it reaches the bottom lobe.
The tattoo is stamped on both the human and feline ear.
