“Someone who looked like him anyway—probably a fae, Tippy said, but he looked so like Jax and he was on the samemotorbike, I thought. Except he ignored me when I waved, and drove off.”
“We have a gang of fae bikers on level one. And only two different models of motorbike. So it could have been one of those guys.”
She peers up at me. “A biker gang? Should I be worried?”
“No, it’s all for show. They have a track and do burnouts in the northern suburbs, jumping through fire rings and over the top of parked vehicles and the like. Makes up for them not being able to practice magic anymore.”
“So fae aren’t as scary as wolves then?”
“Hey, stop fretting about wolves,” I murmur into her hair. “Like I said, there are good ones.”
“Yeah, and bad ones.” She sighs.
“The good ones are looking after Sammy, I promise. Did you see anyone else?”
“Brody came in to grab a coffee, and he introduced me to Kazmo. He seems really cool.”
I stifle a stab of jealousy. Kazmo is fucking good looking.
Mine.
She is not yours, you possessive green idiot.
But right in this moment, it’s hard to believe Clem hasn’t been sent from the Labyrinth gods as my mate. Especially since our amazing knot-fest last night.
“Brody said something about peripherals being programmed,” she muses. “Is that true?”
I’m not going to deny it. “Yeah, it’s true. They have a chip in their neck, put in by the human authorities.”
“But Jax hasn’t got one.”
I shake my head. “Nope. Not anymore.”
“Why not?” She pauses, “Did the wolves who mauled him bite the tracker out of him?”
I pause. “I’ve told Jax to come and talk to you about it. If he doesn’t by tomorrow, I will tell you everything myself. I’ll be true to my word on that, Clem.”
She shrugs. “Okay.” She flashes me a too-bright smile. “Let’s not discuss Jax. Let’s decorate your mom’s cake.”
I nod, surveying the bench, quite happy to leave that issue behind. “Okay, so we’ve got the berries.” I look at the tiny sugar monster decorations. “Where did you find these?”
“There’s a stall with bonbons and the like. I thought we could scatter a few on the top with the berries.”
“You’ve been here a few days, and you’ve discovered more than I have,” I grumble with a grin.
“I do feel very at home,” she muses. “Like I belong here, already.”
I open my mouth, shut it. Fated mate talk is something monsters understand, but it would probably sound like a load of guff to a human. We know that there is someone out there, the special one we are meant to be with. Orcs will usually find an orc mate, but they have been known to mate with other species—just never humans… At least, there are no recorded cases. I tighten my lips, suck in my tusks and refrain from saying a word.
We work as a team at the kitchen bench. Clem beats the butter and sugar and the vanilla essence, until it’s light and airy. Then we slather it on the cake.
I smooth it with a spatula and Clem places the berries around the edges, then pops a cluster of the little candy monsters in the middle of the cake.
We step back and look at our handiwork. “This is fabulous. Mom will love it.”
I think about the way Mom’s face lights up whenever I take her a cake. She used to love baking for the whole neighborhood, and she passed that love on to me. Amy and my twin brothers never understood our love of baking, but they sure loved eatingthe results. We all did. Sitting around laughing as Dad told funny tales from his work week. Friends would drop by all weekend because they knew a Cane cake—or two— would be on the table.
I see Clem’s features soften as I tell her this story. “I wish I’d been there.”
