Page 20

“ A boy and a girl! I just can’t believe it,” Arliss says for what has to be the tenth time.

And I don’t care.

I could listen to her say it a hundred more.

Her voice is lit up with wonder, and that soft lilt in her tone does something dangerous to me.

Because she’s here.

With me.

Sitting in the passenger seat of my truck, knees pulled up just a little, arms wrapped around herself like she’s holding in a secret— or maybe waiting for me to give her one .

And all I can think is this is the best fucking moment of my life.

We haven’t said anything important in the last three hours.

No talk about mates or magic. No dark confessions or ultimatums.

Just being with one another, existing together—and it’s enough.

While Penny labored like the goddess-warrior she is, bringing her twins into the world surrounded by every ounce of love and ferocity the Crew could summon my sweet Arliss stayed beside me.

No fear.

No distance.

Just her presence, steady as the sunrise.

And it’s killed me, in the best way.

Because somewhere in that silence, something shifted.

Snapped into place.

Something that might’ve always been there, just waiting for me to stop running from it.

And now? I know. I can’t give her up.

I won’t.

Not to fate.

Not to fear.

Not even to the Rut.

If it comes for me, I’ll fight it.

I will claw and bleed and rage against it.

I’ll tear the gods down with my bare hands before I let it take me from her.

And if the only way to stop myself from becoming that monster is a bullet to the brain?

So fucking be it.

Because there is no other.

No one else I want to touch. No one I want looking at me with need in their eyes.

Only her.

Always her.

My Bull, usually a smug son of a bitch who growls and kicks at everything, goes quiet.

Peaceful.

And then, as if to seal the decision, he lets out a low, contented snort and settles deep inside me.

Even he knows.

She’s it.

The one.

The only.

And for the first time in my life there’s no argument in my head.

No hooves dragging me in opposite directions.

There’s just her scent on the air, her voice in my ear, and this blazing, gut-wrenching truth that’s carved itself into my chest like a brand.

Arliss is mine.

And I’ll move heaven and fucking earth to be worthy of her.

“You’re quiet.”

Her voice cuts through the soft hum of the truck’s cabin like a warm breeze, and I sigh, tipping my head back against the headrest like a man who’s just found religion in the form of a five-foot-something blonde with curves that could end wars.

“I’m just happy, I guess.”

The words come out kind of dazed, even to me.

And honestly? That tracks.

I’m not the guy who usually gets this.

I’m not the one women fall for.

Not the one who ends up sitting in a truck, heart full to the goddamn brim because his mate is glowing beside him like moonlight bottled in human form.

I mean, I know she heard some shit today and I know she has questions. But she didn’t run.

She is still here. With me.

I flick a glance her way, and that little smile she gives me— just a tease at the corner of her perfect mouth —wrecks me.

Like, full-body growl wrecks me.

And yeah, one slips out before I can stop it.

She turns toward me, all soft and sweet. “You make me happy too.”

Boom.

Joy hits my chest like a truck.

That’s it. I’m done for.

Someone call a medic.

I swing the truck into an empty spot, pop it into park, and grab the keys from the center console.

“Wait right there,” I say, and jump out like I’ve been recruited by the Romance Hero Olympics .

The spring air is getting warmer, thick with damp soil and the scent of growing things. It’s nature’s way of reminding me exactly where I want her.

In my bed, in my arms, in my fucking future.

I circle to the passenger side, pop the door, and scoop her out like I was born to carry her.

I make damn sure she slides down my body real slow, so I get every last second of her pressed against me.

Curves like heaven with a side of sin, and I am so gone it's not even funny.

Her breath catches. “Kian, we should talk.”

Oh, we’re using words now?

Cool. Cool cool cool.

I can use words.

“Fuck.” I moan the word as her scent fills me.

I lean down, nuzzle her cheek, brush my mouth against hers like I can’t help myself.

Because I can’t.

“Kian,” she whimpers.

Fucking. Whimpers.

But she’s also right. We need to talk.

“I know. Ask me anything. I’ll tell you everything.”

Her eyes shine. “Okay. Will you come in?”

I blink. “Isn’t your grandfather there?”

“He is. But I think you should meet him. Don’t you?”

And that’s when I freeze.

Not like fear-freeze.

More like holy shit, I might be about to meet the man who changed her diapers and also owns a shotgun freeze.

I’m not the meet the family kind of guy.

I’m the hide in the shadows and run before her husband comes back guy.

Thought this time around I’m kinda the make sarcastic remarks while fighting off fate and feelings guy.

Only I am done fighting.

Because Arliss?

She’s not just any woman.

She’s mine.

My mate.

And when she looks at me with that mix of hope and affection, my Bull stomps once in approval and gives me the mental equivalent of a headbutt.

So, I nod and let her lead me up the cracked concrete steps of her apartment building.

It’s old. Paint peeling. Rust stains curling beneath the windows.

I file that away under shit she’ll no longer be dealing with.

Because I’m going to take her out of here as soon as she lets me move her in to my place.

Slow and steady , I remind myself.

She’s a normal.

Human .

Soft in all the ways that count.

Must resist the urge to go all caveman.

Something brings my head up as we near her front door.

Voices.

Laughter.

A familiar scent.

A woman giggles.

A man responds with something that sounds suspiciously like a flirt.

Arliss opens the door and—BAM.

“Oh, shit!”

Visual trauma.

Gramps is in boxers and an undershirt.

And not just standing there.

No, no.

The old Casanova has got a woman on his lap.

Wearing nothing but a half-slip and a bra straight out of the 1950s. The thing looks like it could deflect artillery fire.

Arliss slams the door shut so fast I nearly get whiplash.

“Oh my God.”

She stares at me, face blazing red, hands covering her face.

“Gramps has a girlfriend!”

I try. I swear I try to keep it together.

But the chuckle escapes like a guilty dog off-leash.

“Is he having S-E-X?” she whisper-screams.

“Uh, well, I think that’s a safe bet.”

She groans. I kiss her nose.

“But he’s old!”

“He ain’t dead though, Mo Chroí .”

She peeks through her fingers and glares at me, but only for a second before cracking up and leaning against my chest.

“I can’t believe it.”

“You and me both. But hey, game recognizes game.”

From inside, I hear the old man shout.

“Arliss, dear! Come back!”

“We doing this?” I ask.

She exhales. “I suppose we better.”

We walk in, and thank every god ever worshipped, they’re dressed now.

Sort of.

Gramps is in a robe. The girlfriend— Mrs. Stevens, apparently —is in a floral dress that still looks suspiciously like a nightgown.

She’s in the kitchen now, clinking teacups like nothing happened.

“Arliss, you remember Melody, er , Mrs. Stevens.”

“Hello, Mrs. Stevens,” Arliss says tightly, like she’s still recovering.

Mrs. Stevens winks.

“And who’s this young man?” Gramps asks, squinting at me like he’s sizing me up for a duel at dawn.

I step forward, pulse thudding, spine straight.

“Kian O’Malley, sir. A pleasure to meet you.”

His eyes narrow. I brace.

“Well, hell. Finally. Took you long enough.”

He extends a hand. I take it.

“You the one she’s been sneaking off to see?” he asks, loud enough that everyone in the room hears it.

“Gramps, I hardly snuck off, and it is none of your business,” she hisses.

“Baloney! You’re my granddaughter and you’ve been cooped up here for too long taking care of this old fool,” he says, pointing to himself.

“We take care of each other,” she argues.

“Arliss, I’m not incapable of taking care of myself. Besides, Melody here has agreed to marry me,” the old man says, his familiar blue eyes twinkling.

“Oh, my! How long has this been going on?” she asks.

“A while now, but you’re so busy and always working so hard. I didn’t know how to tell you,” her grandfather confesses.

I take in a deep breath, trying to gauge her feelings. Emotions war with something else, pride maybe, and all I can too is watch this fascinating woman as she hugs her Gramps.

“Guess you don’t need me cramping your style, huh?” Arliss sniffs.

“This is your home, dear. Always. But what about this one?” he asks, turning his attention back to me.

“You gonna make her happy, son?”

I take her hand and tug her to me. And I look Arliss dead in the eye.

“Yes, sir. I will do my damndest every single day.”

Mrs. Stevens snorts behind us. “I like this one. He’s got gumption. And a nice ass.”

My eyebrows go sky high.

Gramps doesn’t even blink.

“I raised her right. I expect you to deserve her.”

“That’s the plan.”

And as Arliss slides her hand into mine, face still red, eyes shining, I know one thing for damn sure.

This crazy little family? It’s mine now too.

And God help anyone who tries to take it from me.