MADD
FOURTEEN
I woke up to the muffled sound of someone’s breathing.
For three seconds I didn't know where I was. I was hugging a pillow that was too soft to be mine, and there was a dull throb in my shoulder. I shot up in bed thinking I was in that small room in the dragon compound, and I wanted out!
And then the memories flooded back. The escape from the compound, being wounded, my cousins, mating Conrad, and the apartment. And finally the man, the dragon shifter and my mate, who’d come into my room at two in the morning and slept on the carpet.
I leaned over the edge of the bed. Conrad was on his back with one arm across his chest and the blanket twisted around his legs.
It was the first time I’d seen his face when it wasn’t riddled with tension.
He’d unclenched his jaw, and his brow wasn’t wrinkled with worry.
He appeared younger than his awake self, and I almost reached out to him.
I hated that his life with his blood family hadn’t been the loving one I’d grown up with.
I told you. My wolf enjoyed pointing out when I’d been wrong.
Stop!
I got out of bed on the opposite side so I wouldn't step on my mate and went to the bathroom.
The person reflected in the mirror had dark circles under his eyes and a graze held together with yarrow and gauze.
On my good shoulder, there was a dragon-scale burn that marked me as Conrad's.
It was warm, not from inflammation but as though the mark itself carried heat.
When I came out, Conrad was sitting up on the floor with his back against the bed. His hair was messy, and I was overcome with a desire to run my fingers through it.
“Morning.”
“Morning.” His husky voice combined with him rubbing his eyes suggested he wasn’t quite awake.
“Did you sleep?”
“Some.” He heaved himself up and folded the blanket.
Hmmm, he’d been taught or had learned to tidy up after himself. I was impressed.
But I needed to do something because our conversations were still at an awkward level.
“I’m going to attempt breakfast, but fair warning, I'm not Grandpa.”
“I can’t cook but I can wash dishes, though I need to brush my teeth first.”
Good hygiene, I noted.
The kitchen was better stocked than I'd realized. Eggs, bread, butter, vegetables, bacon, sausages, and four containers of Grandpa's cooking which would feed us for days. Someone must have done this as we were driving here.
I pulled out eggs, bacon, and a pan and looked for a spatula. Conrad appeared in the doorway. He'd brushed his hair and was wearing a clean pair of sweats.
He watched me crack eggs into a bowl. “Did your grandpa teach you to cook?”
“Yes. My family didn’t live here, but Grandpa would visit regularly. One of my most vivid childhood memories is being in our family kitchen and him teaching me.”
“I never learned because I was kept away from the kitchen. Father considered cooking beneath his children, and he’s not interested in food. He eats to live, not the other way around.”
“Oh, he’d never get along with Grandpa. Food is his version of a hug.” Not that they’d ever be buddies. “Why don’t you make the toast.”
He picked up two slices of bread and studied the toaster. “Hmmm, it might be easier if I let my dragon do it.”
I grabbed him, yelling, “Don’t,” thinking the place was going up in flames and me along with it.
With one hand on either arm, I was overcome with his scent, which overwhelmed the aroma of sizzling bacon, and his firm muscles under my grip.
I gulped because my face was so close to his and I was staring at his lips.
“Ummm, it was a joke?” He said it like he wasn’t sure.
“Oh.” I had to let him go, but as awkward as it was to be holding him, it would be more so to stop and move away, aware of what I’d just done.
“Ummm, should I put the bread in the toaster?” The pieces were dangling from his hands.
I pulled away but noted how Conrad shivered when my fingers caressed the soft sweatshirt. His chest heaved as he breathed in deeply, and I dropped my gaze, not wanting to witness what might’ve been in his eyes.
“I’ll try not to burn them.” He was smirking when I looked up.
“Another joke?”
He nodded. Okay, I’d have to get used to dragon humor.
We moved around the small kitchen, and though it was big enough so we wouldn’t bump into each other, his arm skimmed over mine when he reached for a plate, and the contact sent a jolt through me, and I almost dropped the eggs on the floor.
“The toast’s burning.” I flapped a dishrag, not wanting the smoke detector to go off. “And that’s not a joke.”
“Oops.” His cheeks reddened as I explained the setting was too high.
He rescued it and held it up. The edges were black, but the middle was salvageable. “Perfect toast for a dragon.”
“That’s odd because that’s how I like my toast too, but my folks and brother prefer it golden brown.”
“We were meant to be.” He froze, and his eyes flicked toward me.
Since we’d been in the kitchen, I would have described him as giddy. I’d caught a glimpse of the man underneath the outer shell.
“Sorry, I was making a toast joke.”
“I get it. Will they feature in our future? Toast jokes?” Now it was my turn to squirm. I’d mentioned a time after today. He put his fingers to his lips as if he didn’t want to blurt out anything else. But I jumped in saying, “Not that we know what lies ahead.”
I busied myself flipping the eggs and asking Conrad to get the plates.
We ate at the kitchen island because the dining table felt too formal for two people who barely knew one another. After cleaning up, I messaged Flint, asking when he was coming, but Hunter replied, saying Alpha wouldn’t get to us until the evening.
I wasn’t used to hanging out, doing nothing, especially with a mate. But the buzzer rang and saved me starting a new conversation that wasn’t about toast.
Conrad was on his feet, and his body had gone rigid. I guessed he was determining the threat and checking out the escape routes, though I was sure he’d done that the moment we arrived last night.
“It's okay,” though I didn't know that. I pressed the intercom.
“Madd, open up. This lasagna isn't going to carry itself.” Grandpa's voice crackled through the speaker.
I buzzed him in, and when I opened the door, Grandpa walked in carrying two enormous foil trays and a canvas bag that clanked with jars and containers. And behind him was Rudy, Flint’s dad.
Knowing Rudy’s history, a stranger might expect him to be bowed down with the fate the universe had handed him.
But he was bright, bubbly, loving, and loyal.
He couldn’t cook worth a damn, and he loved wearing bright colors, the louder the better, as if he was saying he refused to be defined by what had happened to him.
“Grandpa, we just ate breakfast.”
“What? At this hour?”
Rudy hugged me and told Grandpa not to be such a fuddy-duddy. “Besides, they’re newly mated. They’re not getting up early.”
Oh gods, embarrassing. I refused to look at Conrad, but Rudy was introducing himself and dragging information from him about his family while Grandpa fussed in the kitchen.
“I saw what Flint's people stocked. It's an insult to food." Grandpa was opening cabinets and assessing the equipment.
“I know who you are,” Conrad told Rudy.
“Of course you do. You had a file on all of us.”
Rudy shrugged and wasn’t put off by that information. But he’d been the son-in-law of an Alpha, the mate of another Alpha, and now the father of one. He understood the way the world worked.
“You also know that I've got every reason to be suspicious of you.” Rudy sat on a stool at the island.
“That’s fair.” Conrad’s expression didn’t change, and he didn’t clench his fists. He also understood how mafia flights and packs worked.
“So I’m hoping to find out who you are underneath the name.” Rudy sipped the sparkling water Grandpa had served everyone.
Rudy would have to get in line because I needed to discover that before he did, and I wasn’t up for sharing the experience.
I sat beside Conrad at the counter. Our shoulders were almost touching, and I glanced down at his hands in his lap. He inched one as if in slow motion and found mine. He didn’t hold it and our fingers were barely touching. But we were connected.
Rudy babbled on about how each of his sons had kidnapped their fated mate before marking them. He flapped a hand as he told Conrad that Flint had considered killing his mate.
“But that was sorted out easily.”
How I wished Conrad’s and my situation could be as smooth.