Not for the first time, Kaz wished he’d never bothered to take the Rione Clan’s ink. He’d thought of changing it countless times over the years, obliterating his last connection to them, but every time he considered it, he remembered his mother’s wan face as she watched him lay there by her mother’s hearth, gritting his teeth against thetat-tat-tatbee sting of a needle.
It was the only time in the two years he spent with her that she looked at him with pride. Mostly, she couldn’t bear to look at him at all.
Get in, get out, get back to Atria.
Kaz glanced at his cart and took quick stock of everything he had. It all looked like things his witch would eat, but the more he looked, the more he wished he’d taken her offer to accompany him. What if it was all wrong? He cursed his inability to call Margot for help. Surely she would know exactly what food Atria liked, what would make her smile.
He sorely missed her smile.
Greasy things. Breads. Sweets.Kaz ran down the aisles again, grabbing colorful packages and frozen pizzas willy-nilly. If he couldn’t be certain about his choices, then he’d buy in bulk. At the end of the aisle, he recalled their breakfast in the diner, where the waitress had sent covetous looks at his mate, and walked back a third time.
Kaz had to dig around on a high shelf, but eventually he found what he was looking for: a glass jar of orange jam. Setting it carefully on top of the pile in the cart, he wheeled it around to the frozen section.
His own needs were met with a dozen frozen steaks, several packages of cured meat, a six pack of beer, and a full filet of hot smoked salmon.
Remembering that his mate liked coffee above all things, he chucked several varieties into his overflowing cart before he trundled up to the counter, where a young orc was busy watching an entertainment feed on his phone.
After the boy sheepishly paused his feed and rang up all the groceries, he tried to make conversation about where Kaz was staying, asking if he was part of a caravan, but Kaz wasn’t interested in divulging anything. Once his cash was in the till, he bundled his bagged groceries back into the cart and then hustled out.
He was nearly free, too, with his bags almost completely loaded into the back of the SUV, when a mud-flecked truck pulled up beside him in the dirt parking lot.
Fuck.
Kaz shoved the last bag into the back, ignoring the crunch of cardboard and paper, to slam the trunk closed.
“Shit—Kaz!”
He hunched his shoulders and made to jog around the SUV, but he didn’t make it two steps before a hulking orc stepped in front of him.
Clad in dusty work boots, faded jeans, an old t-shirt, and flannel, Clark looked almost exactly the same as the last time they met. The only difference was that he’d grown about a foot, packed on a hundred pounds or two, and added a lot more ink to the clan tattoo that crawled up both sides of his thick green neck.
“Hot damn,” he exclaimed, voice booming across the lot. “I never thought I’d see you again, but I’d know that nose anywhere! Burden knows I broke it enough.”
Kaz gave him a flat look. “How’s that tooth? Still in the dirt where I left it?”
Clark grinned, showing off his complete pair of prominent lower fangs. He gave the left one a tap with the tip of his tongue. “Yeah, but I got a replacement a while back. No woman wants a man with one fang.”
He couldn’t help but reply, “Not sure that’s the reason women didn’t want you, Clark.”
“Same old smartass.”
“Seems like.”
They stared at each other for a moment. Kaz grew increasingly impatient, while Clark looked like he was having the time of his life. That probably had very little to do with him personally. Clark was one of those irritating people whoalwayslooked like that. He liked everyone — but only after he threw a punch or two to test their mettle.
For whatever reason, that policy extended to Kaz. Thoughhecertainly never counted them as friends, Clark was the only orcish boy his age who didn’t actively despise him. The dumb piece of shit had even gone so far as to fightwithhim when the others jumped him. Even at that age, Kaz didn’t need the help. All Clark got for his trouble was a broken eye socket and split knuckles.
In that sense, he reminded Kaz a bit of Teddy. That was probably why he never could bring himself to tell the orc to leave him alone. He missed his brother like a lost limb during those miserable two years.While Clark’s company was no replacement, it helped ease a little of the ache.
However, that old fondness didn’t mean Kaz wanted to talk to himnow.
Clark put his hands on his sturdy hips and said, “Well? You gonna tell an old friend why you’re in town? And why you didn’t stop by my house to say hi, you fuck?”
“No and no.”
“Does Frances know you’re in town?”
Kaz tried very hard to summon his threadbare patience. He hadn’t liked leaving Atria looking so lifeless in the house. The hair on the back of his neck refused to lay flat from the moment he closed the door. Something was wrong with her, and though he didn’t think she would run again, he was still gripped by anxiety every second they weren’t together. He felt like something was missing, like a connection to something vital had been severed.
