How did I answer that when I didn’t know either?
Angel turned on the car and backed us out of the parking garage. I fiddled with the radio, trying to ignore the pounding of my heart aching to hear the very words that terrified me. Thankfully he didn’t push the point, or say something neither of us could take back. Why three little words meant more than a mate bond to me sounded like something I needed to work out with my therapist.
4
Angel grocery shoppedlike he ran an assault drill, precision-guided and ruthlessly efficient. We filled two carts, paid, and dropped supplies at Grandpa’s before heading home. The entire operation took under ninety minutes. The only thing worse than the grocery haul? The inevitable death march across the parking garage, to the elevator, and then down the hall with enough bags to feed a teenage bottomless pit. At least I’d gotten Ivan eating on the regular.
I should’ve known the murder twins would be lying in wait.
Keanan and Sylas leaned against the wall near my parking spot, arms crossed, shadows stretching long under the fluorescent garage lights. My gut twisted with anxiety. Had Ivan complained about being left alone? He occasionally texted, but rarely called while I was at work. Would Xavier stick him in the community center while I was in the field next week? I’d been battling worry about leaving him alone that long and debated sending him to Grandpa for the week, or to Xavier. Ivan wasn’t a puppy to be boarded, but I hated the idea of him alone for that long.
Angel pulled into my assigned spot and popped the trunk. The twins stalked over before the engine even died.
“You get the stuff we added?” Keanan asked, grabbing bags.
“The list Ivan sent?” I asked, hauling up as many bags as I could carry, eyeing Sylas’s scowl.
“Obviously. Not like we’re allowed to text you,” Sylas muttered.
“Huh? Why wouldn’t you be allowed to text me?” My gaze cut to Angel, who shrugged. He didn’t know either. “Did Ivan say that?”
“No.” Keanan hoisted a tower of bags like they weighed nothing. At least they were useful. Talking to these two was like interrogating a brick wall. One-word answers, glares, and enough subtext to drown in.
“Should I be worried that you guys are skulking around my place?”
“Just looking after the kid,” Keanan said.
“Something you should be doing,” Sylas growled.
I flinched as we all crammed into the elevator. Angel positioned himself between me and the twins, a silent barrier.
“Ivan is fine,” Keanan said, though I wasn’t certain if it was to his twin or me.
Sylas’s nose twitched.
“You smell like fae,” he accused, gaze narrowing on me.
“No,” Angel said.
I frowned. “What does fae smell like?”
“Lightning and lies,” Sylas said.
“Secrets and magic,” Keanan added, staring straight ahead at the doors.
“No fae,” Angel repeated.
I shrugged. “I have a new teammate who’s fae variant,” I offered, though I knew it wasn’t Remi he smelled.
Sylas’s glare could’ve stripped paint. “And your mate’s fine with you rolling around with other males?”
Angel scowled. “No.”
Not touching that. I leaned into Angel’s back, letting his shoulder block the twins’ presence until the elevator dinged, and we made our way down the long hall.
Home.
Ivan materialized the second the door opened, strawberry-blond ponytail bobbing, pajama-clad and barefoot. “Grandpa said you brought him enough rations to survive the apocalypse.”
