Page 29 of Cage Me

A hand wraps around my shoulder and the arm attached to it becomes well acquainted with my fist as I break the contact, but before I can land the second hit, I realize I’m not alone. The threat isn’t here with me.

“Shit,” I mutter to Drake who hasn’t backed up an inch and doesn’t appear to have even considered defending himself from me. “I’m sorry. I forgot.

“You can forget a hundred more times,” he says, face filled with concern, “and I’ll still be right here with you.”

Is he really this damn nice? He can’t be. Not all the time. Maybe that’s my problem with him. He needs to be more of an asshole for me to like him more. Did I really just think that? Gods, I really am fucked up.

“Pence?” Peter’s young voice calls out from the house, and I practically shove Drake out of my way to see my brother.

He’s standing in the doorway of Kasha’s house that I’ve never even entered myself. He’s changed into clean clothes, possibly even showered, and is holding a steaming cup of hot chocolate if I’m smelling it correctly.

“Your friend is so nice,” he says with a wide grin. “She made me cocoa and Mom something else I’m not allowed to have.”

Kasha has never given me a reason to distrust her. Hell, I was even going to ask her to do just as she seems to have already done, but I can’t seem to stop my guard from going up anyway. The hybrid invited my family into her house when she shouldn’t have even known they were in the shed. That I’m not okay with, regardless of her intentions.

“Peter, come here,” I command, then glare at the shadow that appears behind him.

Kasha steps out in front of my brother and rolls her eyes. “I’ve always thought you were a bit ridiculous, but this is over the top. I won’t harm your family, Spencer.”

I step forward, but Drake stops me, whispering in my ear. “Take a deep breath. It’s been a long day. What matters most is that they’re safe and not actually missing.”

Closing my eyes, I lean into his warmth without meaning to, but the moment my back touches his chest, I can breathe a little easier. Drake is right. I know he is, and I want to stop being so damn paranoid, but no matter how much I want to, changing a lifetime of distrusting the whole world in a day isn’t possible.

“Spencer Lane, get inside this house,” my mother’s voice calls from farther away.

When I finally blink, Kasha is still there on the porch. My first instinct is to glare at her, but I know she probably only did what she thought was right. At least, I hope so. If not, the upside of all this is that I’m about to let out a lot of the aggressions I’ve been keeping at bay today.

For now, I’m going to have to go inside that house and pretend that none of this bothers me until it actually doesn’t or something else changes. Otherwise, I risk making an enemy out of Kasha. Considering I already have a witch to contend with now, I don’t need the fae-wolf on my bad side, too.

“Thank you,” I tell Drake as I look over my shoulder at him.

“Everything is going to be fine, Little Dove,” he promises with a sexy grin.

I do my best to agree with him, but until I know that my family is truly safe and that this witch Kel can’t do any more damage to my mate, I’m not sure I’ll be able to believe his words.

With only a slight reluctance, I go up the wooden steps to Kasha’s back door and she moves out of my way. Peter instantly pulls on my hand and drags me into the house. “I don’t know why you’ve been staying out there. Even the couch in here is more comfortable than the flat thing out there.”

Yeah, I bet, but being comfortable hasn’t been my focus these last few years. Though, I don’t tell him that.

“Can I have a drink of your cocoa, bubby?” I ask, wanting to make sure there isn’t anything in the drink that I should be worried about.

He hands me the white mug, and as the porcelain touches my lips, Kasha steps in behind me. “You really think I’d poison a child? You’re more paranoid than even I could have guessed.”

More guilt weighs down on me, because I know she’s right.

Taking a quick sip, I hand the cup back to my brother. “Where’s Mom?”

“In here,” she answers, and I move past the kitchen, through a short hallway, and into a living room.

My mom sits on the couch with a crystal glass filled with dark red liquid I can assume is some sort of wine. Her face where there had been deep bruises forming when I’d left her is now completely free of any signs of the injuries that I know she sustained earlier. More importantly, but also concerningly, there’s a smile on her face.

“Mom,” I say with hesitation. “Are you okay?”

She pats the cream cushion next to her. “Better than okay. Come sit.”

I glance behind me, and I don’t see Drake. I can sense him in the house, but I’m surprised he didn’t follow me. Peter, too.

Interesting.

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