Page 157 of Candy & Her Saints

I’ve never seen him dressed up like this. His hair looks even more startlingly white in the sunshine.

Ghost laughs.

I’m happy to hear him laugh, although he’s not altogether able to hide how nervous the crowds are making him. He’s hanging back behind Lincoln.

Lincoln notices, however, running his hand through Ghost’s hair. “We’ll be with you all the time, little gambler. I know that you can kick ass, but you also have the best trained bodyguard in the state with you. I’ll protect you.”

Thomas exchanges a glance with Lincoln that I don’t understand. “And that’s your number one mission today, understood?”

“I don’t like it.” Lincoln grits his teeth.

“You don’t have to. As your boss, however, it’s the job that I’m assigning.”

“As your fated, can I tell you that you’re brave but a dumbass, sir?”

“That’s your prerogative.”

Ghost growls, shouldering to stand next to Thomas and kissing him, fiercely.

I wish that I knew what they were planning.

Thomas rubs his thumb down Ghost’s neck, and Ghost leans into the touch. “I have something for you.”

Ghost chirps, inquisitively.

Thomas reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, velvet black box. He glances at Lincoln and me, before he hands it to Ghost.

Then Thomas holds out his hands, and Lincoln and I take them. “I had this made for you based on our Soul Marks.”

Ghost pops open the box and gasps.

A small diamond wolf brooch rests inside the box. It matches the Soul Marks on our skin.

Ghost’s eyes gleam like he’s holding back tears, but he doesn’t touch the brooch.

Instead, he cocks his head.

“I want to bond with you,” Thomas says. “We all do. Yet it’s more than that. Us three are fated mates by birth and destiny. But you’re our fated mate by choice.” Ghost closes his eyes. He’s shaking. “If you’ll have us.”

Say yes.

Ghost opens his eyes.

He tilts up his chin and nods.

I let out a relieved breath. My chest is tight.

Thomas reaches to pick up the brooch and pins it onto Ghost’s chest, smoothing over it.

“I love all of you,” I say.

“As do I,” Thomas answers, before he’s briskly business again. “Now, treat this cheese lover to something special from that stall over there. They have some specialist cheddars. Keep him safe.”

Lincoln’s jaw sets, but he nods.

I watch as Lincoln steers Ghost away toward the cheese stall with his arm around his shoulders.

Then I spot Vito at the cake tent. He’s bounding between the different entries, no doubt trying to work out the competition.

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