Page 56 of Ember's Claim

Lorcan is good with his hands. At least, when it comes to tackling my mane of hair. He gives me a sexy scalp massage that sends goose bumps erupting down my arms. He intricately braids my hair and ties each side with a tiny hair band at the bottom.

“You do have an exceptional amount of hair,” he muses, fluffing up the sections.

“Is this a French braid?” I ask, studying myself in the mirror as his hands come to rest on the top of my bare shoulders. “My hair never looks this full when I French braid it.”

“It’s a Dutch braid. Similar idea, only the hair is passed under, not over the braid.” He smirks, shrugging a lithe shoulder as I study him in the mirror. “One of my fathers was quite fond of plaiting my mother’s hair. It was one of his favorite ways to gain an extra few minutes alone with her.”

My arm wraps around the top of my towel as I squirm in my seat.

“You said last night that you thought there was a possibility we’re mates…” I’m unsure how to finish that sentence without sounding insulting. Questioning if he was being truthful seems like a terrible impression to leave when talking about something so important.

“Lovely, I didn’t say it was a possibility. I assure you, we are fated to be together.” He stretches around me, grabbing my right hand and running his finger over my inner wrist. “Hopefully you’re open to body art because, as soon as you place your half of the claiming rune on my skin, we’ll both permanently have the mark you saw in the bar.” He flips his wrist over, showing me the blank space in his otherwise expansive ink. “I’ve saved this for over a millennium.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re old,” I whisper with wide eyes.

My wolf isn’t deterred by themassiveage gap. If anything, she’s fascinated by Lorcan. He’s kept himself alive for an extremely long time, meaning he will make an excellent addition to our family pack.

“Indeed.” Lorcan’s hand comes to rest on my stomach over the towel, and he leans very close to my ear. “The benefits of age are many. I’ll be happy to show you them in depth whenever you’re ready.” He winks at me in the mirror and snaps. “Accept the clothing as my first courting gift. If it’s not up to your standards, let me know. I’ll be in the kitchen making your breakfast plate.”

I blink, and he’s gone.

Whoa.

My eyes fly down, taking in the tight-fitted leather jacket and gray tank top. He also put me in a pair of dark jeans and combat boots. The towel I had wrapped around me now lies tossed over the counter.

Holy shit.

That really is a neat trick.

Anders watches me carefully as I shove my plate back. The dark jeans and plain white T-shirt he’s wearing aren’t anything special, but the way the material stretches over his broad chest makes me shiver.

My wolf wants to see his lion again.

Like a lot.

A lot, a lot.

To the point, it’s all she focuses on while he explains that Sofia gathered the remaining females for the meeting I requested.

“That sounds…official,” I choke out, wiping my mouth with my napkin.

“You are their alpha,” Lorcan calls from his spot standing in front of the sink. “There’s really no such thing as a friendly request. If the alpha orders all females in attendance, it becomes a mandatory meeting…”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I hiss, my eyes darting between the two men.

Anders shrugs. “It’ll be a good first step. There are only four female wolves, outside of Sofia, who you’ve already won over after saving my life and releasing her.”

My eyes fall to my lap. “I regret not being around to save her mate.”

One of Veryn’s dads is a djinn, so I’ve learned not to toss the wordwisharound frivolously, but I do wish I could fix that. I know people die every day, but in the supernatural world, where most either have the anti-aging or undying type of immortality, it just seems so…needless.

Not to mention, Kent. He’s so little to have lost one of his dads. My heart aches even thinking about it.

Anders stretches a hand over the table, grabbing one of mine. “You did more than the rest of us could.”

I nod, meeting his ambery-gold eyes. It feels like I’m supposed to say something, but as his thumb brushes over my inner wrist, I lose the ability to think properly.

“If you’re ready, we can head to the council building,” Anders says, studying my face. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay? Your eyes still have dark circles?—”

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