Page 79 of Creatures of Chaos

I bite my lip and try to pull myself back together. We’ve made it this far. I can’t fall apart now.

Becks traces my lower lip and then frees it from my teeth. I hold my breath as he swipes his finger slowly back and forth against the underside of my mouth, loving the tingles that small touch causes to race down my spine. Taking my face between both his hands, he leans toward me and places his lips on mine, giving me an achingly soft kiss that I feel all the way to my toes.

A throat clears, and Becks and I break apart.

“So this is a thing now?”

With a gasp, I shove against Becks, stumbling away from him to find my dad a few feet away with his arms crossed, staring down both of us with a stony-faced frown.

I’ve never been more mortified than I am as my dad’s gaze moves from me to Becks and then back to me again.

“So. . .” Dad prompts.

I open my mouth to answer, and then shut it again, looking to Becks for help. No one knows about us except Ensley. And with the life-mating hanging over Becks’ head, we haven’t defined what we are. I’m not honestly sure how to answer my dad.

Becks rubs his neck, clearly as uncomfortable at having been caught by my dad as I am, but he takes the initiative and says, “Yes, sir. This is most definitely a thing.”

Despite the awkward situation, a small smile slips on my face. I like hearing Becks acknowledge what we have out loud to someone other than me or his sister.

“Sir?” my dad asks, and I swear the corner of his mouth twitches. Becks has never referred to my dad as “sir” before. He usually calls my dad by his first name, Garrett.

Becks shifts nervously under my dad’s intense regard, and just when I don’t think it could get any worse, my mom appears. “What’s going on?”

I groan, and Becks winces.

“I caught these two making out,” my dad says, and I slap my hands over my heated face.

“Dad,” I whine from my fingers. “We werenotmaking out.”

“You did?” she asks, and I drop my hands to see my mom’s face light up.

“This one here says that this is a thing?” Dad adds, pointing to Becks.

She looks over at Becks. “It is?”

He nods, and a smile spreads over her face. “Well, it’s about time.”

I shut my eyes.Great. She’s as bad as Ensley.

Dad clears his throat as Mom says, “Right,” and then tries to plaster a serious look on her face but falls short. “Well, you realize this means we’re going to have to set new rules for you, such as staying over at their house and such?”

Rather than argue, I nod. I don’t need to be in any more hot water with them than I already am.

“So, how long has this been going on?” she asks.

“It’s pretty new,” I admit. “So can we not pick it apart right now?”

To my extreme surprise, my parents let me out of working all day in the store to hang out with Becks, reminding me that I still have almost a week before I’m completely let off my grounding.

We don’t do anything particularly special. He takes me out to lunch at Sloan’s, then we work out at Peet’s and catch an early movie so that I can be home by eight like my parents asked. When the lights dim in the theater, Becks takes my hand and rubs his thumb back and forth over my knuckles. It’s so distracting I don’t catch half of the movie, but it also feels so natural. We do our best to avoid talking about anything dragon heir related, both of us seeming to want to escape reality if only just for a few hours. It feels like an almost perfect day.

Becks and I pull up to the curb in front of the store at three minutes to eight. I’m reluctant to leave him, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to push my parents, so we say our goodbyes and I slide from the seat of his truck. With a wave, Becks takes off and I waste another minute standing there until his taillights disappear. When they do, I turn toward our building.

The store closed two hours ago, so rather than going through it to reach our apartment above, I go around the side alley to the outdoor entrance to our home. I’m reaching for the door when it opens, startling me. I jump back a step with a sharp yelp and feel instantly silly when it’s just Mr. Brone leaving our place.

“Locklyn, dear. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Mr. Brone says as he steps out into the alley with me.

“Don’t worry about it, Mr. Bro—” I start, but then correct myself when I see the look on his face. “Kerrim.”

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