Page 109 of Werewolves and Witches AU

Chuckling quietly, I ask, “Ye sure yer not a wolf?”

When we’re on the last floor, Milo stiffens in my hold, but I already know what he’s heard. The Jackal Security team must be outside the bathrooms, because the low murmur of their chatter carries easily.

Keeping my voice low, I give Magpie his mission orders.

“Yer a punk graffiti artist, and it’s cans of spray paint in the bag. Make it believable that ye don’t want to be caught, but not too dramatic. We don’t need them trying to help me out by taking ye off me. Got it?”

“Then we’re going home?”

“Nowhere else I want to be more than home with my mate,” I promise him.

“’Kay…” And then he takes a deep breath. “Put me down! I can walk! This is undignified! No grown man wishes to be carried around like this!”

When the voices ahead of us cease, I stifle a chuckle, and push through the fire doors with Milo still in place over my shoulder. I make sure to look each one of the men in the eye, allowing just enough of my wolf to creep through that they don’t step closer, and don’t slow my stride until we’re back in the main lobby of the bank.

“What ridiculous story did he tell ye?” I bark.

The team leader—his badge reads Matt—hesitates before admitting, “He said was sent by a job agency.”

“Right, because all yer staff are twenty-five-year-olds from temp agencies, are they?”

The muscles in Matt’s neck tic, and there’s a strain around the edges of his eyes. He’s fighting the urge to stand to attention and acknowledge my superiority here. Former military, then.

I nod, but keep moving toward the big glass doors. “This one’s a known tagger who can’t shoot a gun to save his life. Luckily, else that pop he took at me up on the top floor might have done some damage.”

“Our protocol is to hold and interview suspects until the police arrive, sir.” Matt presses, but it’ll be a cold day in hell before I hand my mate over.

Milo’s fingers tighten another twist into the fabric of my T-shirt. “That’s not necessary. I’m taking this one directly for processing. Besides, if he talks at ye for too long, he’ll only try and sell ye some shampoo.”

Blunt teeth bite into the sensitive skin of my right flank, and I hiss. Oh, Milo is definitely my mate.

Only once we’re out of the bank and across the intersection, do I set him back on his own feet. “Get in the truck, Pup.”

“Milo? We’re home.” Gently, I stroke the longer strands of his silver hair from his forehead while he wakes up.

He blinks once, twice, then smiles and stretches in his seat. “So tired,” he mumbles.

Fumbling with the door, he staggers out of the truck, and I offer him my hand. With the cuffs no longer present, he gratefully latches on, and I guide him up the porch steps and into the Nest. Once inside, Milo simply stands still in the entrance hall.

I help him out of my jacket and his boots, then bring him through to the kitchen where the cooled tuxedo cookies wait on the countertop. As predicted, his eyes instantly widen.

“You made cookies?”

“Double chocolate chip: white and dark.”

Milo gives a happy clap, all tiredness seemingly forgotten. “You made tuxedo cookies?”

“For ye, aye. I did.” I scrub my hand over my short beard. “I told ye, I messed up, this was me…”

A loud crunching cuts me off. Milo’s cheeks are pushed out wide like a hamster where he’s shoved in an entire cookie.

“You’re very good at apologies,” he tries to say around his overly stuffed mouth.

I chuckle, glad he likes what I made for him, but inside, I’m already vowing to never do anything that means we need to bake apology cookies ever again.

Taking another cookie for the journey, I lure my hungry and overtired mate out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Running on autopilot, I presume, he heads straight for the little guest room at the end of the hallway. I pass him the second cookie and steer him into the bathroom.

While he munches and shimmies, I strip and set up the shower. Then I turn my attention to my mate. Milo, apparently having only just noticed we’re in the bathroom and not the bedroom, cocks a brow, and his piercing glints under the overhead lights.