Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
CHARLI
Ididn’t have another flashback the rest of the night. Stretching, I turn over and see Macklin facing me, his deep blue eyes lost in thought. Embarrassment sweeps over me when I think of his hands on me. His fingers in me.
He raises a brow. “Would you like to go to breakfast with me?”
“That’s the plan, right?”
Macklin inches closer. “Yes, but you seem a little uncomfortable this morning.”
Of course he would call me out. “I’m sort of embarrassed.”
“Because it was me?” His blunt question makes me squirm.
I narrow my eyes. “Because of me. What I did. Said. With you both.”
His brows clash together. “I’m not following.”
Dismayed, I stare at him. “Forget it. It’s nothing.”
He leans over and whispers in my ear, “Next time, I’ll beg you to touch me. Okay?”
His deep voice sends shivers down my spine, but his words make me lunge at him in mock fury. In a quick maneuver, he spins, pinning me under his body. I gasp when I feel him between my thighs. Long and hard. The thick head nudges me through the thin barrier of his boxers.
Dipping his head, he coaxes me into a kiss that takes slow-burn to a whole other level. I could kiss him for hours, languishing in his arms, my body on simmer as he rocks back and forth.
When he lifts his head, he chuckles. “I think your stomach growled.”
“Ignore it,” I order him, tugging on his neck.
He stands, swinging me up from the bed in a remarkable feat of strength. “Go get dressed. We leave in fifteen.”
I shake my head, and he stiffens, a look of uncertainty crossing his face.
“I need at least twenty.”
He exhales. “Make it fifteen, and I’ll buy you whatever pastries you want.”
“Deal,” I reply, shoving past him to hurry into the bathroom.
Teague winks as I pass.
Stripping down, I jump in the shower and wash off, then brush my teeth and throw my hair into a ponytail. Wearing my robe, I race into the bedroom.
Teague’s standing beside the bed.
“Good morning,” I say, stopping in front of him. I blush when I think of what he did last night. With his mouth.
“Mmm. It is, isn’t it?” He snags my wrist, tugging me closer. “Where’s my kiss?”
I stretch up and crook my finger, so he’ll lower his head. Placing my lips on his, I kiss him, tentatively at first, but when his tongue meets mine, the heat builds quickly, and I become bolder.
He wrenches his lips from mine and groans. “Save that thought. I don’t want you to be late for your date.”
“Right,” I say, lost in a haze of lust.
“Pastries. Macklin,” he reminds me, picking me up and carrying me into the closet. He leaves and shuts the door behind him.
“Two minutes,” Macklin says as he raps on the door. “I’ll wait for you in the living room.”
Pulling on underwear, I slide the hangers along the rail.
Where are my favorite jeans? Not seeing them, I grab a pair of new ones from the collection, and slip them on, then dash to the mirror.
My butt looks…good in the dark jeans. Curvy.
With a grin, I hurry back and shove my feet into socks and the tall boots I wore on my date with Teague, then tuck the jeans inside.
Fuchsia blouse. I throw the long, black wool coat over my arm and grab my phone and purse.
Striding into the living room, I have to admit I feel good in the clothes they bought me. Better than the worn ones I’ve been carefully repairing to make them last. I twirl, showing off my outfit, and Teague smirks, like he knows I’ve given in.
Macklin’s eyes travel from my perky ponytail down my leather-clad feet. His hand reaches out and takes my coat from me, helping me into it. “Breathtaking.”
I slide my hand into the crook of his elbow and stare up at the man in front of me.
Macklin’s immaculately carved face is framed perfectly by a thick, cable-knit turtleneck in a dark navy that matches his intense eyes.
Black jeans and a black bomber jacket lend him a dangerous air that is only further enhanced by his size.
“We’ll meet you at the hospital at ten,” he tells Teague, his eyes never leaving me. “Say bye, Teague.”
“Bye, Teague,” I repeat in a husky tone.
Macklin’s mouth descends the second we’re in the elevator, and I realize how much last night changed things. I slide my fingers through his black hair and press my body against his.
Cold air fills the confined space, and I shiver.
Macklin curses. “Sorry. I should have done that the moment I saw you.”
I laugh and tug him into the garage. “You’re good for my ego.” He raises a brow, and I shake my head. “Come on. I’m hungry.”
He mutters. “So am I.” But he leans down and lifts me up into his truck, which is already running with the heat on.
“We could have walked,” I tell him when he slides into the driver’s seat, but he shakes his head.
Downtown is packed with people, and it takes several minutes to find a parking spot. “What’s going on? Is it a festival or sidewalk sale?”
His lips press together. “What happened to you was unacceptable. Not only because you’re Andros’ and Teague’s mate, although that would be reason enough, but because Greystone should be safe for anyone who wants to be out alone at night.”
I grip the door. “What did you do?”
“We made a statement. A graphic one.” His gaze is steady when he shuts off the truck and turns to me. “Are you sure you want me to tell you?”
I nod, holding my breath.
“We put their heads on a pike with their balls in their mouth. There will be no funerals. No burials. Scavengers will pick their bones clean. And when Lawson brings back the fifth shifter’s head, we’ll do the same,” Macklin states, an underlying current of fury in his voice.
Maybe I should be repulsed, but every time I close my eyes, I see the excitement and cruelty in their eyes, hear their jeering laughter, and smell their desperation. Their depravity is a tangible, bitter taste in my mouth.
“What about the witch? The one who spelled the crystal rocks so nobody could hear my screams?”
“Her name is Sylvia,” he informs me. “She sells them in her shop. Didn’t know they were going to use them for that purpose. She’s going to add a nasty little spell to her crystals in case someone tries to use them for the wrong reason again.”
“Thank you.” I lean over and cup the back of his neck, my lips finding his in a sweet kiss. “Now, feed me, Seymour.”
He scoffs. “You’re not old enough to quote that movie.”
“My mother had an odd sense of humor. She loved that movie. Even—” My voice trails off, and it dawns on me that I’m in a relationship with them and they don’t know who I am. Or rather, who I was. I take a deep breath and finish my sentence. “My real name is Audrey, not Charli.”
Satisfaction, not surprise, flares in Macklin’s eyes. “You don’t look like an Audrey to me, but we can call you whatever you wish.”
It’s odd. I’ve actually thought about this quite a lot.
I changed my name when I went on the run to hide from Hank and the hackers he hired, and in the beginning, I cried a lot, thinking I’d lost me, along with everyone else.
But I came to realize Charli is who I am now, and Audrey belongs to the person I was before my mother died.
“Charli suits me. You don’t seem surprised,” I return, crossing my arms.
“We knew you were hiding, and the initial background check the company does on every employee couldn’t find a Charli Ford in the system,” Macklin returns with a shrug. “As you know, that’s why Teague ran your prints.”
My stomach growls, and his mouth firms.
“Food first, then we’ll go home and talk. With Teague,” he states, getting out of the vehicle before I can protest and coming to my side to help me out. He grasps my elbow and tugs me toward the bakery.
Inside, the smell of fresh pastries and sweets makes my mouth water. Chocolate and sugar and spice…everything nice. “I’ve tried the banana bread, Biscoff cupcake, and a croissant. All three were good, but the cupcake was the best. Definitely getting one of those.”
His brows form a V. “Breakfast first.”
“Hmm. Okay,” I reply, letting him think he’s won. I look at the lady waiting to take our order. “I’ll have the cinnamon roll and croissant for breakfast. And I’ll take one Biscoff cupcake, one Banoffee cupcake, and one triple chocolate fudge brownie with walnuts to go.”
Macklin scowls. “And a fruit bowl.”
“No fruit bowl,” I tell the lady. “Are you going to order, or stand there and glare at me?” The lady hands me a plate with my breakfast pastries and the box of delicious goodies for later. I motion to the open table in the corner. “I’ll grab a table. Will you also order me a large Campfire Coffee?”
Leaving him standing there, I make my way to the table and watch round eyes flick from me to Macklin.
Normally, I’d shrink from their stares, but not this morning.
I’m out on a date with an incredibly handsome man.
Instead, I smile and say hello, sprinkling in a couple of comments like, “Isn’t he handsome?
” and “I’m a lucky woman.” They chuckle, and my confidence blooms.
Several people stop Macklin when he passes and congratulate him on finding his mate. I almost choke. Oops. An inscrutable expression settles on his face. He reaches our table and sets my coffee down, along with his food. Sitting, he stares at me, obviously waiting for me to explain.
Ignoring his silent demand, I wrinkle my nose at his plate. “A coffee cake and fruit? That’s it? I must say…I’m kind of disappointed.”
He looks bewildered. “Why? I usually eat oatmeal and a protein bar. This is a treat.”
“You’re immortal,” I say dryly. “Does it matter? I mean…it’s not like you have to worry about cholesterol or calories or the million other bad things that can slowly kill you. What happens if you don’t work out?”
“We’re warriors,” he says stiffly, as if that’s all he has to say. He takes a bite of his coffee cake. “They didn’t have this the last time I was here. It’s incredible.” Spearing a bite, he holds the fork out.