Page 18

Carter

Carter’s wolf was at war with his human side. The alpha wolf was demanding he get up to find Mila. Gio was there, but his wolf soul was less worried about the powerful vampire. Carter’s inner alpha was much more worried about their fragile human mate.

He hadn’t been aware when she left, but he was realizing she wasn’t with him now. The body snuggled in his arms was Gio. While the vampire smelled wonderful and looked tempting as hell, Carter’s wolf was making it impossible for him to ignore the growing anxiety.

“Why—?” Gio mumbled as Carter slowly uncurled from around the vampire. Gio was trying to lift his head but couldn’t manage it.

Carter might not be able to see auras, but he could sense how depleted Gio was. Guilt made him want to stay at Gio’s side. The vampire hated being alone during the day when he was this helpless.

“I’ll find Mila, then come back,” he promised Gio, giving the man a gentle kiss on the lips.

Gio frowned, but then sighed and let the daylight sleep drag him back under.

Rolling over to his side of the bed, Carter sat up, then almost fell back over. His head throbbed, his throat was dry, and his entire body felt like he’d been run over by a semi. After a moment, the headache eased enough for him to think, and his body felt steady enough to try standing.

He braced himself to stand up, knowing it was going to be as bad.

He was wrong. It was worse. So much worse.

With a gasp, he grabbed hold of a nearby chair. It was the only thing that kept him from crashing to the floor.

Pain made his vision waver and sweat break out all over his body. His wolf hated this. Being weak meant he couldn’t protect their mates.

“I’m not happy about this either,” Carter grumbled to his wolf as his vision cleared.

Moving slowly, he took careful steps to the door. He opened it to find Faith standing there with her hand out, about to grab the door knob.

“Oh, that saves me a trip,” the tired knitter said.

“You can leave,” Carter said, summoning a smile. “I’m fine now.”

Faith rolled her eyes. “You’re standing, that’s good. But I can feel your body struggling to cope. Sit down before you fall down.”

She took hold of his arm and guided him back into the room. He wanted to fight but knew he’d end up on his ass if he tried to pull away.

His naked ass.

“Could you get me something to wear?” he asked, swallowing his pride. He didn’t mind being nude around Gio, and Faith didn’t count, but his lack of clothing might upset Mila. He needed pants at least.

To his surprise, Faith didn’t smirk or tease. She flattened a hand on his chest and closed her eyes. “In a moment, let me check on you first.”

He felt her magic flair against him. He relaxed and waited.

“You’re much better than I expected,” she said, straightening and pulling her hand away. “Your natural shifter healing will do the rest. You don’t need me to do anything.”

Relief made him grin up at her. “Great!”

“That doesn’t mean you can do anything except rest,” Faith countered as she looked around the room. “Where do you hang your robes?”

He refused to walk around the house like a convalescent. “No robe.” He pointed to the dresser. “There are pants in the second drawer.”

Faith let out an annoyed sound but went over and rooted around until she found a pair of gray sweatpants he’d forgotten he owned.

He had a feeling he wasn’t going to convince her to find anything else, so he remained silent as she slipped them up his legs.

He was able to stand with the help of the chair, and she pulled them the rest of the way up.

Grimacing, he looked down at the old sweats.

“Don’t make that face,” Faith said, standing up. “Mila’s going to love these pants. I promise.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “She liked me in my motorcycle jacket and tight jeans. These aren’t as nice.”

Faith snickered. “These are good too, trust me.”

If his wolf wasn’t pushing hard to set eyes on Mila, he’d ask Faith more questions. “I need to get downstairs.”

“If you do that, you’re not getting back up here until Gio’s awake,” Faith warned him. “You can’t get up the stairs without him carrying you.”

He scoffed openly at her declaration but secretly knew she was right. At least there was the TV room on the first floor with an oversized, comfy couch. It wouldn’t be a bad place to spend the day.

“Let’s go,” Faith said, moving to his side. He draped an arm over her shoulders and let her help him. Like most knitters, Faith was much stronger than the average human her size. Not as strong as a shifter like him, but still able to help him without straining herself.

The journey from the bedroom to the downstairs was one of the hardest of his life. He was short of breath by the time they were at the bottom of the stairs.

Without having to ask, Faith paused so he could catch his breath.

“Do you smell that?” she asked.

He’d been focused on breathing before, but now that she commented on it, he noticed all kinds of wonderful smells filling the air.

“Is someone cooking?” Faith asked and walked away from him to follow her nose. “I think I smell cinnamon rolls!”

Determined not to be left behind, he pushed away from the wall to follow, proud that he weaved only a little.

He got to the kitchen archway in time to watch Mila pull a tray of something out of the oven. She was humming, her steps light and dancing as she turned to set the tray on a waiting trivet. The bright lights of the kitchen made her blonde hair glow, and her face looked relaxed and happy.

His wolf settled at the sight of their content mate and retreated to leave Carter in control. It was nice that the animal wasn’t pushing him any longer, but with the wolf’s retreat, Carter’s legs turned to rubber.

The knitter must’ve known this was a possibility because she was quick to press against his side and wrap an arm around his waist.

“Carter!” Mila exclaimed, finally noticing them. “Um, Faith, right?”

The knitter nodded. “He needs to sit down.”

“I’m fine,” Carter grumbled but let Mila rush to his other side. Between the two women, he made it to one of the stools at the kitchen island. His legs gave out just as Faith shoved a stool under him.

“Should you be up?” Mila asked.

“Yes,” Carter answered, trying to sit up straight and look perfectly fine.

“No,” Faith said with a sigh. “But here we are anyway.”

Mila laughed and pointed to the half full carafe of coffee in the maker he rarely used. “Want some? The cinnamon rolls will be cool enough to eat soon too.”

Faith took a seat next to him. “I’d love some! They smell just like the ones my mom used to make.”

Mila beamed at her and rushed to fill several mugs and bring them back. She also brought creamer and a bowl of sugar.

Carter downed his entire mug in several swallows, hoping the caffeine would help his body feel a little more stable. Faith ignored him and took her time doctoring her coffee with cream and sugar.

Wait, where did the cream and sugar come from? Actually, where did all the ingredients for the cinnamon rolls come from?

“I know none of this stuff was here yesterday,” Carter said.

Mila smiled at him. “I went out shopping this morning. I couldn’t get much, but I have enough to make a few things.”

Carter’s wolf reared up, angry and upset. The emotions were powerful enough to almost make him drop his mug. Setting it down with a thump, he frowned at Mila. “Don’t do that again.”

Her bright smile disappeared, and she took a step back. “What?”

“Easy, Carter,” Faith said, her voice mild, but her words stern. “Don’t say anything you’ll have to buy diamonds to make up for later.”

Carter ignored the knitter. “Don’t leave without me again. Anything could’ve happened to you out there.”

Faith snorted. “As if you could protect her right now.” The words were said under her breath so Mila couldn’t hear them.

The knitter’s words made shame swamp Carter. He’d failed to even provide for Mila, let alone protect her.

Mila went from looking alarmed to confused. “I only went to the grocery store. It’s part of the job to do that.”

Carter looked confused. “Job?”

Mila nodded her head. “Gio probably didn’t get a chance to tell you. He hired me to be a personal chef for you two.”

Understanding dawned. “Yes! Gio is brilliant, we absolutely need a personal chef.” Pulling his phone out of his sweatpants pocket, he unlocked it and searched for the app he and Gio used to order things for the house.

After he found it, he held the phone out for Mila to take.

“Order anything and everything you need.”

She shook her head. “I’d rather create a menu or meal plan with you, then I can make a list of items. I don’t want to overbuy.”

“I don’t care,” he said, waving the phone. “I’d rather you overbuy than leave the house alone again. I couldn’t stand it if you got hurt.”

Her confusion bled away, and her expression turned to one of sympathy. “I understand. You were attacked, and that was traumatic. Do you have a therapist to talk to?”

Now it was his turn to be confused. “Therapist?”

Faith stifled a chuckle. “This isn’t the first time Carter’s gotten beaten up. He tends to find trouble. I think he’s just being overprotective, not acting out because of trauma.”

“I’m not traumatized, and I don’t need a therapist,” Carter said firmly. To prove his point, he tried to stand up so he could take the phone to Mila. “I want you to order what you want. I don’t care if you make me eat salmon for each meal.”

She stepped forward to take the phone before he could try to walk toward her. “I take it you don’t like salmon.”

He made a face. “It’s an abomination. Most seafood is.”

“See,” she said, throwing up her hands but keeping hold of his phone.

“That’s why we need to talk. I want to know what you like.

If I’m going to be your personal chef, it’s important that I make things you want to eat, not things you're willing to put up with. Knowing you’re not a fan of seafood is vital to my job! ”

Carter’s stomach growled, reminding him of the sweet smells filling the kitchen. “I think having one of those cinnamon rolls might be vital for me right now.”

“I second that,” Faith said.

“They’re going to be hot,” Mila warned as she set Carter’s phone down on the island. She fetched plates and dished up several rolls, including one for herself. Carter’s wolf gave a hum of approval at that. They both wanted their adorable round human to keep her soft shape.

His eyes rolled back in his head when he bit into the cinnamon roll. By the sound of appreciation coming from Faith, she was enjoying it also.

He ate it in several bites, then reached over and grabbed the entire pan off the trivet. It was hot, but not so bad he couldn’t handle it. Using his bare hand, he put three more rolls on his plate.

“Good!” he grunted as he demolished them.

While he was eating, Mila refilled his coffee cup and chatted with Faith. He could’ve eaten the entire pan, but didn’t want to deprive Mila of a second helping when she was ready. He also didn’t want to look too much like a greedy asshole.

“These,” he said, licking his fingers clean. “These need to be on the menu every day.”

Mila chuckled, looking pleased. “I think you’re going to want to try my crullers or Danishes before you decide on one thing forever.”

“Cruller?” Faith asked, looking interested. “I love crullers.”

“I can make a batch for you,” Mila offered.

“No,” Carter said, feeling jealous. “You don’t do that.”

He knew he’d said the wrong thing the moment Mila seemed to shrink into herself. “I’m sorry, you’re right. This is your kitchen, and I’ll be buying ingredients with your money. I shouldn’t offer to make things for other people.”

“That was uncalled for,” Faith said, glaring at him before turning a smile on Mila. “You're an amazing baker. Thank you for the cinnamon roll. It’s time I went home.”

Mila was quick to grab the pan with the remaining cinnamon rolls. “Here, take these. I bought all this with my own money so it’s mine to give away.”

“By all the gods of night and day,” Carter cursed. “I didn’t mean it that way. Of course you can bake for anyone you want. Feed the entire neighborhood, I don’t care. The only thing is that I don’t want you to feel like you have to make stuff for people."

They both ignored him as Faith accepted the pan and came around the island to give Mila a hug. “He means well, but he’s a lot like a giant puppy dog. All impulse and little control.”

Carter didn’t like the comparison, but it seemed to make Mila smile and relax her shoulders a little.

“Thank you for taking care of Carter,” Mila said, returning the hug.

“We’re all lucky he’s got a hard head and a strong will to live,” Faith said, making Mila laugh. They separated and Faith cast him one more warning look before leaving.

Mila made herself busy cleaning up the kitchen and trying hard to pretend he wasn’t there. What was wrong with him? His interpersonal skills weren't normally this bad.

He waited for her to finish rinsing the mixing bowl before trying to get her attention. “Mila?”

“Yes, Mr., um,” she looked up at him. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your last name, sir.”

He really hated this weird formality. “My name is Carter.”

“But I work for you, so I should probably address you as Mr.,” she said with a little shake of her head.

This was going to be a problem. He could see now that Gio hiring her as their chef might make her reluctant to pursue a relationship with them. This was a messy and tricky situation, and he really needed Gio.

“I don’t feel good.” He slumped his shoulders and dropped his head. He wasn’t lying, the effort to get downstairs and stay sitting up on this stool was exhausting.

Mila’s wall of formality vanished, and she rushed around the island.

Rubbing his back, she made a sympathetic noise. “What can I do?”

“Can you help me to the couch?” he asked. It probably wouldn’t be hard to talk her into snuggling with him and watching something for most of the day.

His wolf stayed quiet because Mila pressed into their side to help him stand, then move into the other room. By the time he got to the couch, he ended up flopping down with a sigh of relief that wasn’t exaggerated.

“Let me get you some more food,” Mila said, looking concerned. “Something with more protein.”

He didn’t want her waiting on him. “Would you sit with me? I don’t want to be alone. We could drink coffee and watch something.”

She nodded. “I’ll bring a tray.”

That sounded good. If she brought a tray, she wouldn't need to leave again. He laid back as she bustled out of the room, eagerly waiting for her to return.