Page 32 of His to Hunt

“No, I’m sure she hasn’t,” I reply. “However, as I’m sure you can imagine, she’s still having some trouble with everything. Joe and all that. I’m sure you can understand…”

“Joe, right, Joe,” he says, nodding. “Yeah, that shocked the hell out of me, too. The man… he was like a brother to me.”

I raise a brow, doubting he was that close, but I know Frank’s type. They latch onto every tragedy and make it all about them.

“I understand if you’re done mourning your diner brother, but Taryn’s a little more sensitive, you know? She doesn’t bounce back from something like that the way we would,” I speak conspiratorially with this messed up man, gesturing between him and myself.

“Right, right,” he sighs. “My other waitress is back now, so I could probably get by without Taryn for a few more days. Yeah, I could manage that.”

“She would really appreciate it, Frank. She appreciates all that you and your wife do for her.” Despite how pleasant I’ve kept the conversation, the wolf in me won’t let me end it there. “Especially what you’ve done with the basement. I mean, Frank, you’ve given her a place to live.”

Frank glances away nervously, and if he feels judged, he should. “Yeah, you know… Melinda didn’t want her to take Shana’s room, and… well, yeah, we fixed it up.”

“Yes, I noticed,” I say flatly. “Gave it a coat of paint, did you?”

He has the grace to look sheepish for a moment. “Anyway, I need to get to work! Um, you’re not staying, are you? I mean, my wife…” He looks toward the stairs, and it’s clear who wears the skirt in the family.

“Taryn and I will be downstairs,” my tone indicates I’m done with the conversation. I turn away and shut the door with a loud thud, lock it, and walk back down the stairs. He mutters something, but I don’t catch it. I don’t give a fuck what Frank has to say.

Taryn is already done with her shower and wrapped in a towel, which is a shame, but at least she’s not dressed yet.

“The problem is handled. Frank understands that you need a few more days off work after everything that has happened recently.”

“He wasn’t mad?” she asks.

“He’s fine,” I reply. “But I still want you to quit that job. You don’t need it anymore.”

“I need a place to live,” she pushes back at my order, looking around. “I realize this isn’t much, but it’s shelter.”

“I’ve seen servants and slaves who were treated better than this. I understand being grateful for what you have—I’ve been there myself—but you’re my mate, Taryn. That means you will live with me, and I will make sure you always have somewhere warm and safe to sleep.”

“Where do you live?” she asks, her eyes widening a little.

“Before you cast your spell and I got your scent, I was a member of a pack. Silver Pack. They’re old wolf shifters who lost their mate or never had one and believe Mother Fate forgot about them,” I explain. “Now that I’ve found you, we’ll find a place of our own.”

There’s confusion and alarm in her eyes. She takes a step back and her lips tremble. “Um, what? This…I’m confused…What? Wolves? Packs? What in the hell are you talking about?”

“We’re just having a conversation, Taryn,” I speak in soothing tones, trying to calm her through our bond. “Nothing is happening yet. The bond is real, but it hasn’t finished settling into your blood yet. Once it does, you’ll understand that you belong with me,” I continue. “In any case, we have other business to attend to. Today, we’re going to see Saul. He’s the leader of Silver Pack and the one who helped me break the curse.”

“Oh, where does he live?” she asks, looking at me like she’s afraid I’m about to drag her away to a foreign country.

“He’s staying in Covington for a few days,” I reply. “I texted him last night, and I’m sure I’ll hear from him soon.”

“Covington? Okay,” she breathes, a little relief in her voice.

“But unless we hear from him before Melinda leaves for work,” I warn with mischief in my voice. “After she’s gone, you’re all mine, little girl.” Walking closer, I put my hands on her curving hips.

“Again?” she asks, looking up at me.

“As if you’re not already wet,” I rumble. “I can smell your arousal dripping down your thighs. Or do you want to deny it and get a spanking for lying to your mate?”

“I… I can’t deny it,” she whines, crossing her legs and wiggling adorably.

I reach down and yank her towel off. She immediately pulls her arms across her chest, then slowly lets them fall. My eyes move down her perfect body until I see the nectar between her thighs. I let out a low growl and gather some of it on the tip of my index finger.

“The scent of one’s mate is almost intoxicating,” I hum, licking my finger, her sweetness filling my mouth. “But a taste? Mmmm, that’s like fucking ambrosia from heaven.”

She swallows hard and I hear the front door slam. She hears it too and she nervously glances at the bed.