Page 77 of Hot Blooded

When she’d called him to tell him he had to come over for dinner, Tessa had suggested that they tell her mother that Amos had some kind of gastro-intestinal disorder. But he’d told her not to bother. He could eat food, he just didn’t like to. It tasted like nothing and did nothing for him nutritionally or calorically. And until his venom broke it down, he would have a stomach ache, but it was hardly the worst thing in the world.

“Thank you,” Tessa had said softly, “for doing all this for me.”

“Tessa,” he’d replied just as softly. “There isn’t a thing you could ask that I wouldn’t do for you.”

She’d been overwhelmed, grateful, humbled, nervous. This love was so unlike any she’d felt before.

“Just know that dinner with your family is hardly a great sacrifice on my part. What time should I be there?”

And now, there he sat, calmly eating a meal that would make him sick, all so he could make a good impression on Tessa’s lunatic family. After the roast, there was lemon meringue pie. Tessa tried not to wince as Ma cut a giant slice for Amos. Without even the slightest flicker of dismay, he accepted his plate and dug in.

By the end of the meal, Tessa had a tension headache, but Ma had warmed considerably to Amos, and Rob had stopped with the puffed-chest egoism. As Sarah rounded the kids up to leave, Rob shook Amos’s hand.

“Be good to my sister,” he said gruffly.

Tessa pursed her lips together, torn between annoyance and a sudden sentimental urge to hug her brother.

“Of course,” Amos answered.

Once they were gone, Amos insisted on helping Ma clean up the kitchen. She made a few cursory objections, but a few minutes later, Amos was loading plates into the dishwasher while Tessa wiped the stove down and Ma put the leftovers into containers. Ma insisted Amos take the leftovers and he obviously couldn’t refuse, so Tessa knew what she’d be eating for the next couple of days.

Once the kitchen was clean, Amos followed Tessa upstairs to help her pack her essentials to take to his house. She stuffed a duffel bag with as many clothes as she could manage and filled a box with all her toiletries. Amos loaded everything into his car while Tessa said goodbye to her mother.

“I’m not that far away, and I’ll be over all the time, because you know I can’t give up your cooking.”

Ma looked small and tired again, and it broke Tessa’s heart to leave, but she knew she had to. She had to create her own life for herself. She had to allow herself the happiness she’d been missing for too long.

“I know, baby.” Ma wrapped her in a hug and held on for a long time. Finally, she pulled back, planting a kiss on Tessa’s cheek. “He’s a good one, your Amos. He’ll take care of you.”

Tessa swallowed, her throat suddenly tight. “Love you, Ma.”

“Love you, too.” One more kiss on the cheek, and then she was sent on her way.

Out in the car, Amos held the passenger door for Tessa. As he slid into the driver’s seat, he froze, one leg still out of the car.

“What’s wrong?” Tessa asked.

“The windshield,” Amos answered, getting out of the car.

Something flat and round was tucked beneath the wiper. Amos pulled it free and got back in the car.

“What is it?” Tessa asked, leaning over.

Amos turned it in his hands, letting the streetlight illuminate it. It was a plastic gold medallion, with a design embossed in the top that looked like a kid playing soccer. It was scuffed and grimy, obviously long forgotten by whatever kid had originally owned it.

“The thrall,” Amos snarled. His hands clenched on the medallion, snapping it in two.

“Another gift?” Tessa took the pieces from his white-knuckled grip. “Be honest—how terrified should I be?”

“If he’s demonstrating courting impulses towards you, he won’t want to harm you. You’ve got my claim mark, so he won’t be able to claim you, even if he were capable. Thralls can’t claim bloodmates. Regardless, the impulses are there. And without his sire to keep him in line, he’s at the mercy of his impulses.”

Tessa took that in, quiet for a moment. “Then, Amos… please don’t kill him.”

Amos stiffened. His pupils dilated with predatory intent.

“It’s not his fault this was done to him,” she said. “He’s alone and lost and he needs help. You know what it’s like to be alone. I know what it’s like. So, please. Help him.”

The stiffness eased from Amos’s posture. He sighed. “Alright.”

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