Page 29

The soft vibration of Emilio’s phone ripped him from contented sleep.

He was all but using Rocco as a full-body pillow, his nose pressed in close to his throat, so every sense was overwhelmed by his mate.

Pushing himself up into a slow plank in an attempt not to jostle Rocco awake, he slid off the bed and hunted through the discarded clothing spread all over the room until he found the source of the buzzing.

SL:

Found some trash of yours on a farm. Want to come pick it up, or shall we incinerate it?

Emilio:

I’ll be there by this afternoon.

Slipping into the bathroom, Emilio hurriedly brushed his teeth as the shower heated.

If he was going to get there before nightfall and stop to check in with Marco on the way, he needed to get going soon.

The winter sun was already well risen, courtesy of the best night’s sleep he’d ever had.

Images from the night before played on repeat in his mind as he rushed through getting clean, ignoring the erection he seemed to be almost permanently stuck with since he’d met his mate.

“Where are you going, puppy?” Rocco asked, his morning voice a rumbling growl as he stepped into the shower and pressed his naked body in close behind him.

Emilio tipped his head back in pleasure as his mate’s hands ran up his ribs before teasing his nipples as hot water rained down on them.

“Business. I need to head out west for a night or two.”

“What kind of business?”

“Pack business.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Didn’t say you did. We can take the bikes. Call it our honeymoon.”

“Rocco—” Emilio’s words cut off on a moan of pleasure as his mate started massaging shampoo into his scalp before carefully rinsing it out.

“Shhh, puppy. Let me take care of you now that you’re mine.”

Emilio pulled away and turned to glare at his mate. “You can’t say shit like that to me. You know what it’s doing to my wolf.”

“I can say whatever I want when it’s true,” Rocco growled. “You might be refusing to mate me, but you sure as fuck married me. You’re mine . Where you go, I go. ”

Emilio could feel his gums aching where his fangs had lengthened.

A full-body shiver went through him despite the heat from the shower.

How had he ended up married to a human who was possessive enough to be a damn wolf?

Stepping out from under the water, he grabbed a towel and left the bathroom.

If he was quick enough, maybe he could leave before his mate could catch up.

Using his shifter speed, he raced through getting dressed in the tactical gear he wore when he was out on a job, slipping his weapons—instruments of death—into holsters and hidden jewellery as he went.

Luckily, Rocco was taking his time. The shower was still running when he moved silently to the bedroom door and turned the handle.

That was stuck. No matter how hard he tugged, the damn thing wouldn’t open. The window was exactly the same.

“Rocco, you asshole! Let me out!” Emilio yelled.

The shower cut off and his mate strolled out of the bathroom a moment later, towelling his hair dry. Beads of water slipped down his chest before soaking into the neatly trimmed dark hair at the base of his cock that was standing proud and tall.

Rocco’s eyes traced his path as Emilio paced the room in frustration. He hated being trapped. Or at least he should hate it. Just like he should’ve hated having his wrists restrained last night. He wrapped his prey in rope, not the other way around.

“I’ll be ready in a minute. Have we got time to make breakfast before we go?” Rocco asked.

Emilio’s fists clenched, and he closed his eyes as he fought to stay calm. Strong hands gripped his shoulders, massaging firmly.

“Stop that,” Emilio muttered, leaning into the touch.

“Why are you fighting the bond so hard?” Rocco asked, pressing a kiss to his neck .

“You really want to be stuck with the Lunetti Pack for eternity?”

“I want to be stuck with you .”

“That’s just your kink talking,” Emilio said, waving a hand dismissively. “Humans don’t feel the bond the same way. That’s why my father’s mate could do what he did.”

“Are you still comparing me to that poor sod who was brainwashed and victimised when he was too young to know any better until he turned on his own kind? Do you think that poorly of me?”

“No. I’m comparing myself to my father. He’s in my blood. I know you wouldn’t sell us out to the terrorists, but can you really say you’d choose me over your club? Over your family?”

“I may be just a human, but I understand family. I would never ask you to betray your pack.”

Emilio turned to face the witch that every cell in his body was trying to meld with. “You wouldn’t even have to ask. If I mated you, I’d do anything to make you happy. The bond is a curse.”

And that was the crux of it. Somewhere along the way, the witch had weaselled his way into his life. Into his heart. It wasn’t Rocco he didn’t trust. It was himself.

Rocco gripped his chin, forcing him to look at him.

“I’m a witch, Emmy. I know curses. A mating bond isn’t anything like them.

It’s a gift. A magic all its own that is just as enticing—just as real—for my soul as it is yours.

The families in New Trinity might posture about how different we are, but deep down at our core, all our supernatural communities are the same.

The essence of our magic comes from the same place; it just manifests in different ways.

The wild in you calls to the wild in me, and if you let me, I will answer.

I will always answer. You say you’d do anything to make me happy, but that goes both ways.

I wouldn’t let you fall like your father did.

I’d catch you. But it wouldn’t ever come to that because neither of us is broken like poor Ethan, and we would both die before we let someone break us that way. ”

Emilio looked up at his mate, blinking back tears. Rocco smiled a soft smile and gripped his neck to pull him into a slow kiss, totally unlike any that had come before—an exploration. A promise.

For the second time that morning, their moment of peace was interrupted by Emilio’s phone. Shaking off the trance Rocco’s words had put him under, Emilio answered the call.

“Marco?”

“You’re heading out to Silverlake?” his Alpha asked, as Rocco’s mouth drifted along his jaw to nibble at his ear.

“Yeah, as soon as we’ve eaten.”

“Oh, good. I assume that means Rocco’s going with you. I was going to offer you back-up, but if you’ve got your air witch, you’ll be fine. Another warehouse was hit last night. I don’t have anyone to spare. Plus, there’s a limit to how many of us Charles will tolerate in his territory.”

“We’ve got it,” Emilio reassured him, scowling at his mate’s smug look when he realised he’d gotten his way.

“I know, Emmy. You’re one of the few I would trust with this,” Marco said before hanging up.

Emilio stared at his phone for a second before tucking it back in his pocket.

The conversation with Rocco had already thrown him off balance.

He knew his Alpha cousin trusted him, but there was something about the way he’d said he trusted him more than most others in the pack that finally sent a crack through how he perceived himself after his dad’s betrayal.

Somehow, Rocco picked up on his thoughts without him saying anything.

“You’re a trustworthy guy, Emmy. The kind of guy who finds a way to use his pack’s need for information to save a threatened sex worker.

The kind of guy who channels his need for violence, for blood, into justice and beauty.

I trust you. Marco trusts you. Your family trusts you. When are you going to trust yourself?”

Emilio stared at Rocco blankly. Not knowing what to say.

His mother had abandoned him for his violence.

His pack was punishing him for his father’s.

But here was Rocco, seeing through it all to his core.

Seeing who he was as something to be valued.

Protected. Possessed. The axis from which his identity had been spinning out suddenly felt much more solid.

He didn’t know what to do with that information.

“Saddle bags are over there to put your stuff in. It’s a four-hour drive,” Emilio said, falling back on logistics.

“I’ve got a go-bag on my bike already. I’ll make us some bagels,” Rocco replied, pausing to press a kiss to his temple as he walked past.

The crisp winter day was the perfect weather for a cross-country ride. The roads were dry, the wind was a gentle breeze, and the light cloud cover was enough to prevent any glare without turning the world dark and grim.

The road out of town to the west took them past the forest where his father had died.

Rocco let him lead the way, and Emilio slowed as he reached the point where fresh tar seal had been laid across the area damaged by magical explosives.

The roar of Rocco’s Harley coming up beside him snapped him from the trance he’d fallen under as he stared out at the landscape instead of watching the road like he should’ve been.

Forcing himself to focus, he twisted the throttle to regain the lead, smiling as Rocco kept pace.

The two of them leaned into each curve of the road like they were dancing until the forest where his father lost his life wasn’t so much as a reflection in his wing mirror.

They kept up that way until Rocco pulled ahead to gesture toward a rest stop they were approaching.

“Why’d you stop? It’s only another hour,” Emilio said once they’d both cut their engines and dismounted.

The place they’d pulled over hadn’t looked like much from the road because the trees hid everything from view.

It didn’t have a view, a campground, or anything that justified the signpost directing them there.

The only thing it did have was a track leading off into the woods that they didn’t have time to explore.