Page 23 of Daddy Frost

Kalen shot forward, closing the distance. He grabbed Delta and yanked him close, his heart hammering.

“What’s wrong?” Delta glanced around frantically.

“You almost backed into my bike.” Kalen was as strong as ten men combined and could have picked his motorcycle up if it had fallen over. But it was a custom paint job, and he didn’t want it scratched to hell. Also, he didn’t want anything damaged, possibly rendering it undriveable and stranding them. They were an hour away from Midnight Falls.

Delta looked skeptically at him. “I’m way too skinny to knock that heavy bike over. I think you just wanted me back in your arms.”

His tone was no longer teasing.

Kalen narrowed his eyes. “I don’t play games, Delta. If I’d wanted you back in my arms, I wouldn’t resort to some tactic.” He yanked the man closer, causing his mate to feel the steel rod in his jeans. “I would simply put you there, muffin.”

This time when his mate licked his lips, Kalen knew it was from nervousness and not a way to entice or torment him. “Please let go of my arm.” His voice trembled, and Kalen saw the stark fear in his green-gray eyes.

His grip loosened, but he didn’t let his mate go. “I have never raised my hand to anyone smaller than me, and I damn sure ain’t starting with you. I can guarantee you have nothing to fear when it comes to me, sweetheart.” He brushed his knuckles over his mate’s cheek while maintaining eye contact. “Who’s hurting you, Delta? That’s not the first time you’ve silenced your phone since we’ve been here.”

“Let. Me. Go.”

Releasing him, Kalen ground out, “I’m only trying to help you.”

“Who asked for your help?” Delta fired back like a wildcat showing his sharp claws.

Kalen’s temper flashed through him, aggravated at the little tangle of pissed-off male who was testing him on every level imaginable. Especially when he spotted the fine tremble of Delta’s slim body. The guy was afraid, but not of Kalen.

Of whoever kept calling him.

Just that fast, Kalen’s temper dissolved into nothing more than mild irritation. The only way to resolve this was to be honest, even if his mate refused to believe him. “I’m 345 years old.”

Delta’s trembling worsened as stark terror filled his eyes. Kalen had been expecting the guy to call him a liar or become angry in some way, not look like he was staring down the barrel of a gun.

“What sick game are you playing?” Delta whispered, recoiling as if Kalen had burned him. “What was your twisted plan, to fuck me before you killed me? Is that why you brought me all the way out here, an hour away from my home?” He backed away, tears brimming his eyes as he steeled his spine, his jaw clenched, his head held high. “Whichello sent you, so I have no doubt you’re going to kill me, but I’ll be damned if I’ll willingly allow you to fuck me, you evil piece of shit.”

Kalen slowly blinked, at a complete loss for words. Delta had taken his admittance at face value, which meant he knew about the preternatural world.

And someone wanted his mate dead.

Hands up, palms out, Kalen took a step back to show Delta he wasn’t a threat. “Muffin, I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I certainly don’t know anyone named Whichello. My name is Kalen Frost. I’m a wolf shifter, and so are my three sons. The reason we feel a connection”—he pointed between them—“is because we’re mates, Delta.”

The guy looked as if he would rabbit at any second, and Kalen wanted to prevent that. Delta was already terrified enough without having someone as big as Kalen chasing after him.

“How…how… How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Delta swallowed roughly, and fuck, man, Kalen wanted to pull his mate into his arms so badly they ached. His human should not be terrified of him.

“Because you feel our connection, muffin,” Kalen said softly. “A need to be near me, like we’ve known each other longer than this morning.”

Delta looked like he wanted to believe Kalen, but whoever Whichello was, he’d put the fear of Satan into the human.

“Tell me, from the beginning, what’s going on, sweetheart.” Slowly, Kalen lowered his hands, but he didn’t try to approach his mate.

“What if you’re playing me?” Delta asked. “If you are, then I’m only feeding into your sick game. Maybe you want to hear it all so you can, I don’t know, get off on it before you snap my neck or something.”

Goddamn. This Whichello guy had really done a number on Delta. “I’m grabbing my phone.” Kalen didn’t want his mate freaking out when he reached into his pocket. Then he set his phone on his bike seat and dialed Jax, putting the call on speaker.

It figured the one time he needed Jax to answer, the call went to voicemail. Kalen tried Damon.

“What do you have, telepathy?” Damon asked when he answered. “I swear it wasn’t my fault. I was frying chicken. Casimir might have distracted me, and the next thing I know, the grease in the pan somehow caught fire.”

Kalen closed his eyes and prayed he still had a house to come home to. “I need to talk to Whichello. It’s important.”

Delta stiffened, glancing between Kalen and his phone.

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