Page 41 of Tossed into the Mob

He hauled me upright so we were staring at one another. “And when would I have done that? When you were bleeding? Grieving? Being told your father was dead? Shooting a guy? I couldn’t wave my cock around when you were mourning your dad.”

“You were looking after me as you had done from the beginning.” I snuggled into him.

“That’s what mates do.”

“My body must have recognized you, though, or as much as a human can understand fated mates.” I told him his calming touch and presence got me through those awful few days.

He said it was interesting I responded to being skin to skin rather than his scent.

“But I picked up your scent the moment I spoke to Dad when we were at Rudy’s.”

“Nature or fate or the universe—take your pick—was doing you a favor. No scent could or should have penetrated your grief.”

I placed my nose against his neck and inhaled. Gods, I wish I could bottle that aroma. Please let Treyton and his intoxicating scent be at my side forever.

“So are you sure about being my mate? Or should we toss a coin?”

I giggled. “Treyton, you’re more quirky than before.”

He peppered kisses over my cheeks. “Oh sorry. I didn’t have much joie de vivre when we were fleeing a gunman.”

I flung the covers off. “The one time we really laughed was when you told me I was pedaling at the end of a sheet while dangling from that building.”

He raised a brow. “You want to pedal?”

“Mmmm.” We needed to get rid of the angst and uncertainly and tell it to fuck off.

“Let’s do it.”

We lay on our backs, legs up high, hands clasped, and pedaled. In my mind, the faster my legs moved, the further we left that awful time behind. I imagined I was moving so fast I floated.

We both collapsed, sweaty and red-cheeked, giggling and kissing one another.

“Do you, Brock, agree to become my mate?”

“I do. And Treyton of the La Luna Noir pack, do you agree to mate me?”

“I do.”

“What now?”

He explained that he would mark me, and I could choose whether to do the same to him.

“But not now because there’s someone I want you to meet.”

Another surprise. I’d had my share in the last few weeks, and I wanted to be done with them. But Treyton was smiling, so I assumed whoever it was would be friendly and not armed with a gun.

“You have seen him, but we didn’t have time for any introductions.”

“Your dad at the library?” It was the middle of the night, so an odd time for a meet-and-greet.

“My wolf.”

“Now?”

“Yeah, in the woods.”

“Oh, so you’re scared of zombies but not cavorting in the forest in the middle of the night. Got it.”