Chapter 13
Eb
My gaze is locked on Marigold. Has been for the past hour.
She’s curled against me like we were made to fit this way.
Bare skin pressed to mine.
Her breath is soft and warm on my chest.
One of her thighs tangled over my own, her hand splayed possessively over my heart like she’s staking a claim she doesn’t even know she made.
And maybe she hasn’t said it out loud—but I have because I know the truth.
This woman? Marigold Santos?
She’s mine.
Not in the way people toss that word around.
Not in the way I thought I wanted anyone.
No, this is different.
This deep and old and written in something wilder than magic.
I knew it the moment I saw her. And when she kissed me like I was something sweet and dangerous all at once? I was a goner.
She’s mine.
My Honey.
My fated mate.
I made damn sure of it when I sank my teeth into that soft place between her neck and shoulder—and left a mark that says mine in a way no app ever could.
I should have warned her. Explained what it meant.
But I was drunk on her moans.
Her curves. Her scent. Her sex.
And when her nails clawed down my back and she whispered my name like a wish, my Badger decided it was already done.
And for once I agree, the fucker’s right.
She shifts beside me and lets out the softest sigh.
I look down at her.
Flushed cheeks. Swollen lips. The scent of sugar and frosting still lingering on her skin, in her hair, somehow.
She’s radiant. Real.
My fucking everything.
I’m about to wrap my arm around her again when my phone buzzes. The screen lights up.
Bobby.
Dammit.
I almost ignore it—until I see the message.
Bobby the Moron
Hey. Don’t freak out. I got clipped on the highway on my motorcycle. Bruised ribs. Some internal bleeding. Couple stitches. But they won’t let me leave unless someone signs me out. Can you come get me?
I exhale through my nose and push up gently so I don’t wake her.
The last thing I want to do is leave.
But he’s my brother.
My pain-in-the-ass, chaotic mess of a brother.
And even though I know his Badger will heal him, I can’t just ignore his message. I can’t leave him stranded.
I pull on my clothes slowly, carefully.
She stirs, but doesn’t wake.
Still smiling in her sleep.
God, she’s beautiful.
I tear off a sheet from her order pad and write the first damn love note of my entire life.
Honey,
I didn’t want to wake you. My brother’s in trouble and I need to go get him. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Please don’t think I’d ever just walk away from what we shared. That was real. You’re real. And I’m not letting you go. We’ll talk tonight.
—Eb.
I fold the note and set it on her kitchen counter.
I pull the door shut behind me, oblivious to what’s happening inside the apartment.
The draft from the door closing knocks the note loose.
The paper flutters, slips off the edge—and disappears beneath the couch.
And when Marigold wakes up hours later, warm sheets cooling on the other side of the bed—she’s alone.
I’m gone.
And my life just got completely fucked.