Page 27 of Matched into the Mob

I’d need to call Flint, but that spare phone was in the study. Uncle Arnie had charged all the devices last time we were here and turned them off before putting them in the safe. And as long as we didn't open the freezer and coupled with the cold weather, the food in the freezer would be fine for a good while.

“Can you shuffle to your left?” I asked. My arms were wrapped around Matt, and he leaned on my shoulder, his warm breath billowing across my chest, while I rested my chin on his head.

“Or just a step to the right?” He wriggled his hips.

“What?”

His body jiggled as he laughed. “Forget it. It’s a reference to a movie I love.”

“Oh.” I wasn’t a movie buff. “Ready.” We shuffled until we reached the drawer with the candles.

The house we’d lived in as kids had a generator, but this place didn’t. Using the light from my phone, I retrieved lighters and candles. And when I lit them, they flickered, creating a warm glow which hopefully comforted my human mate rather than the pitch-black darkness.

“That’s better.”

Matt was still clinging to me, but I had to check the alarms and get the phone. My mate refused to stay by himself, so we got the phone and I checked the alarms to find they had plenty of battery power remaining.

The house would get cold during the night, but the extra bedding was upstairs, and I could keep my mate warm.

“Ready for bed?”

“Okay.”

We reached my dad’s room where Matt would sleep, and I placed a candle in the bathroom and one on the nightstand, cautioning him about the danger of flames and a wooden house.

“Where are you sleeping?” He seized my arm.

“In the room at the end of the hall. The one you were in earlier.”

“Okay.”

“Night.”

“Night.” He held me tight.

“Did you want me to wait until you’re in bed?”

“Is there a lock on the door?”

“Yes.” There were locks on all the bedroom doors. Not so much in case of a mobster war, but as kids we were always pranking one another, especially Flint, and my parents got tired of being woken up by my and Hunter’s screams.

“Okay.”

And still he didn’t let go.

“Would you like me to sleep in here?”

“In the bed with me? I don’t think so.” My suggestion had him releasing his grip.

“Good night.”

“Night.”

I left the room, wishing we were spending the night together. Not necessarily to have sex—though I’d love to have my dick buried deep inside him—but to hold him and to take his fear away.

But he wasn’t having any of it.

You can’t leave him. He’s scared.My beast was worried about our mate.

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