Chapter 12 – MICAH #3
Sean waves a dismissive hand, nearly taking out the orange juice carton. "Nothing. Just be here and look gorgeous." He pauses, fork halfway to his mouth. "Oh, and if a greenish nymph shows up asking if anyone knows who egged the Dean's Mercedes last month, the answer is absolutely not."
Regina blinks. "I wouldn't have known anything about that before," she says slowly, "but now I'm pretty sure I do."
"You know nothing," Sean says, pointing his bacon at her like a weapon. "You're an innocent witch who just bonded with us yesterday. You weren't even here when the alleged egging occurred."
"Alleged," Rowan mutters, shaking his head.
"It was Killian's idea," Sean adds, throwing our alpha under the bus without a shred of remorse.
"It was not my idea," Killian growls. "I said we should put a rotten fish under his seat. You were the one who wanted eggs."
"Because eggs are funnier! Rotten fish just stink. And he would've known the moment he opened the fuckin' door."
"And property damage isn't?"
"It's comedic property damage. There's a distinction."
Regina looks between them like she's watching the most stupidly absurd tennis match in the world.
I grin at the amusement and horror I feel through our bond.
She's genuinely trying to figure out how she ended up bonded to four grown alpha wolves who think egging the Dean's car is an appropriate response to. .. whatever we were responding to.
I honestly can't remember at this point.
"Alright," Killian finally says, pushing back from the table. "I've got a class in ten minutes. Can't miss it again or Professor Styles is going to have my ass."
"Again?" Regina raises an eyebrow.
"I may have missed a few sessions while we were dealing with the whole mate-finding situation," he admits.
"A few meaning six," Sean supplies helpfully.
"Shut up, Sean."
Killian crosses to Regina, and there's something almost awkward in the way he approaches her. Like he's still not quite sure what the protocol is for leaving his newly bonded mate for something as mundane as a lecture.
And fuck, neither am I.
His hand finds the back of her neck, thumb brushing over the mating marks that are still fresh against her skin.
"I'll be back soon," he says, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips that starts gentle but lingers just a beat longer than strictly necessary. When he pulls back, his eyes are that electric blue that means his wolf is close to the surface.
"Go to class," Regina murmurs against his mouth. "I'll still be here when you get back."
My wolf purrs.
She'll still be here.
She's ours now, and she hasn't changed her mind and taken off.
Killian kisses her once more—quickly this time, like he's afraid if he takes too long he won't be able to leave at all—and then he's grabbing his bag, throwing it over his shoulder, and heading for the door.
"Don't let Sean burn down the house," he calls over his shoulder.
"That was one time!"
The door slams shut behind him, and the house feels slightly emptier without Killian's massive presence filling it. But only slightly, because there's still three of us and our mate, and the bond that's humming with satisfaction.
"Dishes," Rowan says, already standing and collecting plates. "Micah, you're with me."
"Yeah, guess it's only fair since they cooked," I agree, pushing up from my chair.
"I can help," Regina offers, but Rowan waves her off.
"Absolutely not. You're still recovering from the ritual. Go relax. Read one of the grimoires in the study. Take a nap. Whatever you want."
"I feel fine."
"You feel fine because you're running on post-bonding endorphins," Rowan counters. "By this afternoon, you're going to crash hard. Trust me."
Regina looks like she wants to argue, but something in Rowan's expression must convince her, because she just sighs and settles back in her chair. "Fine. But I'm helping tomorrow."
"Deal. But you have to win chainsaws, nukes and lasers."
She rolls her eyes, but she's smiling.
Everything is right in the world.
And then the doorbell rings.
Rowan, Sean and I freeze, exchanging a glance.
We're not expecting anyone. Sadie would just walk in, and anyone else would have called first.
Which means—
"Oh shit," I breathe. "It's Ms. Morgan."
"Who?" Regina asks, confused.
"The nymph," Sean chokes out. "She must have found out about the eggs."
"It's not about the eggs, dumbass," I mutter, walking out of the kitchen to answer the door. "Just keep quiet and don't volunteer information."
Sean makes a gesture like he's zipping his mouth and I roll my eyes. I take a second to glance around the living room, just to make sure nothing incriminating is left out, and open the door.
Sure enough, there she is. The Dean's right-hand nymph is standing on our doorstep, clipboard in hand, wearing an even more authoritative pantsuit than usual as she glares at me over her horn-rimmed glasses.
"Good morning," she says with a sharp smile. "Our office has been informed your pack has taken a Bonded. An unauthorized Bonded."
Fuck.