Page 82 of Chev's Mate

I brush my thumb along his wrist as we step inside our home, silently wondering what they’ll feel and look like with those ties around them. I should bring up the idea with him, but I struggle to find the courage.

I won’t worry about it until Charlie’s gotten the ties from Silas. It’s a problem for future Vanessa.

Chapter Thirty-Two

CHEV

I STRUGGLE TO slow my limbs and remain calm as I notice the time. I’m running late, and that knowledge is making me sporadic.

Vanessa moved in two weeks ago, but we haven’t truly been able to enjoy one another’s company. She’s been so busy with work, but the elven facility she’s been struggling with has finally resolved its issues. I want to celebrate.

Vanessa was quite offended when I told her I wouldn’t be available to walk her home from work this evening, which I thought was worth it because I was going to surprise her with a delicious meal. A delicious meal I’m fucking up in every possible way.

I thought I’d remember the recipe for the wheat sticks better than this.

She made it look easy.

My mate will be here any minute now, and all I’ve got to show for it are burnt strings and a messy counter. At least the sauce I made is good. It wasn’t always that way, but I added salt until it was delicious.

Shifters don’t typically cook with salt, but requests for it have spread since Vanessa made our lands her home. She’s quickly creating a friend group, and even though I find her friends annoying when they’re constantly in my home stealing my mate’s attention, I’m glad she’s finding happiness.

I slam my fist against the counter before grabbing the pot on the stove and throwing the charred remains outside the back door. I forgot I needed water to cook the wheat strings, a mistake I won’t make again.

This is my favorite meal, mainly because it’s the first one my mate ever made for me, and now it will be the first one I’ve made for her. That’s romance if I’ve ever seen it.

I make sure to put a large amount of water into the pot before setting it back on the stove. This time, I won’t mess up. I also throw in a handful of salt before peering into the oven. Vanessa didn’t tell me how to make this, but I found a recipe online.

My cheese-covered bread looks crispy, and I crack the oven door open to smell it. The heat hits me in the face, but it’s worth it. It smells amazing. I love human food.

The water is just beginning to boil when the doorknob twists and my mate comes walking inside. She looks fantastic in her jeans and sweater, and I lean against the counter as she enters the kitchen. I’m playing it cool.

“What’s all this?” Vanessa asks.

She approaches, and I find myself holding my breath as she peers at the pots of boiling water and tomato sauce. Her cheeks turn red, and I watch the change before ducking and pressing my lips to hers. She’s gotten comfortable with my kisses, and I squeeze her tightly as I tease her with my tongue.

When I pull away, she’s breathless.Good.

“I made dinner,” I say.

The room is smoky from my first failed attempt, and Vanessa’s nostrils flare as she dips her finger into the sauce. Hereyebrows raise as she tastes it, and I rock back on my heels as I wait for her approval.

“It’s very salty,” she says.

I nod. “Yes, it is. Just like you.”

The way her nose scrunches tells me she’s not happy with my compliment, which I don’t bother trying to understand. My mate’s skin is very salty after a long day in the heat. It’s in her sweat, and I love it. Maybe that’s why I enjoy the table salt she’s stocked our home with so much. It tastes like her.

I step behind Vanessa and wrap my arms around her waist, eager to have her in my arms. I spent most of my day trying to catch up on the pack work I’ve missed during the last few years I’ve been prioritizing the females, which made the day go quickly. Not quick enough, though.

I still missed my mate.

Vanessa leans into my arms, still looking down at the stove. The action exposes her neck to me, and I quietly brush her hair aside before licking the dark-pink mark. Vanessa shivers, and I do it again.

“Chev!” She gasps, throwing an elbow into my side.

I groan and back away, pretending her elbow has wounded me, before returning my focus to the wheat sticks. The water is finally boiling, and I grab our last four boxes and pour them in. Vanessa watches from the side, and I take it as a good sign when she doesn’t step in to correct me.

“I’ll be right back,” she says, squeezing my bicep.

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