Page 8 of Out of My Flocking Mind

“Watching your weight?” Even as I asked, I glanced back at him, rewarded with a look at a body that didn’t need to lose a single damned pound—lucky bastard.

“Sugar’s bad for you.”

“You’re immortal. Why do you care?”

“Immortal or not, unhealthy food leaves you feeling unhealthy. Also, don’t you think it’s rude to complain about the food you’re stealing?”

“Stealing is rather extra, don’t you think? Mi casa es su casa, right?”

He pressed his lips together, then shook his head as if deciding that arguing with me was far from worth it. It had taken him a long time to come to that decision, but I felt a little pride at the fact he’d finally gotten there.

Instead of arguing, he moved past me and to the fridge. He pulled out a large gallon container and poured the dark liquid into a mason jar, adding ice at the end. “We’ll eat outside.” He didn’t ask my opinion, just carried the drink past me and set it on the table out back.

I finished making the toast, put the jar back into the fridge, then followed Galen out.

He’d left the drink at an open spot, suggesting it was for me. I took him up on the offer, then tried the drink.

It made me smile, the familiar flavor of the sweet tea calming. Despite the chill of December and the light sweater I had on, there was something so comforting about the cold tea that lingered in my mouth even after I swallowed.

“Thanks,” I offered, my voice soft, meaning more than just the tea.

He had no idea what else I meant, of course. I hadn’t let him in on the little run-in with that shadow and Harrison last night. He’d only worry and bitch and moan—and I sure didn’t love those sounds.

However, just coming here made me feel better, like the filth that still seemed stuck in my mind couldn’t touch me here.

“You promised me before that you’d see me the next day.”

I took a bite of the toast, taking far longer to chew it than I needed to, just to buy time. When I swallowed, I considered taking another bite just to procrastinate more.

“Grey…” Galen said, the name one hell of a warning.

I set down the toast on the plate, giving in. “I wasn’t ready.”

“You should have answered my calls, at least.”

“If I did that, you’d know something was wrong with me.” I flashed him a smile, trying to lighten the mood.

Except, Galen didn’t seem all too willing to play along. His gaze moved down from my face to my neck, lingering on where I knew scars still rested. Despite Kelvin’s little trick not quite working out, the marks hadn’t gone away.

“Maybe you’ve been busy with Kelvin.” Galen’s tone was flat, as though he tried very hard not to show any feelings that might frighten me. It made me wonder just what rested beneath that carefully curated exterior.

And no matter how much I wanted to prod at him, how I wanted to play up the clear upset he had, I didn’t.

Was this what it felt like to grow up? Or maybe I’d just had such a rough night I lacked the energy.

“No. I haven’t seen or spoken to Kelvin since the trial.” I laughed softly. “He hasn’t tried to contact me, either.”

Galen narrowed his eyes. “Aren’t you his thrall?”

“Not really. You were there—you saw that I didn’t become a Grave.”

“You might not be a Grave, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t bound to him.” Galen leaned forward, moving so slowly it felt like a joke, as though he wanted to ensure I could pull back if I wanted to. “The fact that these marks remain tell me that he created some sort of a bond.”

I shivered at the stroke of his fingers against the marks. Why did that feel so damn good? As though some line connected those marks right to my clit? My voice came out breathy as I responded. “I can’t form bonds like that because of what I am.”

“Maybe not a normal bond, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t any. Be careful, Grey. You have no idea what a bond like that could do to you—or what Kelvin might do because of it.”

I snorted. What exactly did he think Kelvin was? Some romantic idiot? “Yeah, well, seeing as he hasn’t reached out at all, I don’t think there’s much to worry about there.”

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