Page 17 of Wild Reckoning

His gaze flicked to Stewart, noting the nervous way he rubbed his arms, despite the heat from the fire. “You cold?”

“No, no,” Stewart mumbled. “Just…getting used to everything.”

Killian spotted the way Stewart’s eyes flickered over him, as if he, too, felt something brewing between them, something his mate wasn’t quite ready to address.

“I guess you have to leave now,” Stewart added, his voice softer, less sure.

Killian didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he watched Stewart, really watched him. The guy was wound tight, like any sudden movement might make him jump. Stewart shifted his weight from one foot to the other, avoiding his gaze.

Killian’s gut told him his mate’s nervousness wasn’t just about being in a strange house. It had something to do with what Ethan had mentioned earlier, about the bad man who had hurt his uncle.

The thought of someone laying a hand on Stewart, of Ethan seeing the violence, caused Killian’s jaw to clench tight. He felt protective rage rising his throat. Wanted to act like a caveman pounding his chest and kill anyone who meant them harm.

No one, least of all a kid, should live in fear. But, as badly as Killian wanted to insist on staying, Stewart needed time. He needed space, but he also needed to feel safe—and not just in the house.

“You think, uh, maybe you could stick around a little longer?” There was a crack in Stewart’s voice, an edge that made Killian’s chest ache. His mate’s gaze darted away like he wasn’t sure if he’d made a mistake.

Killian wasn’t going anywhere. “To make sure the locks don’t disengage on their own, of course.”

“Of course.” Tension visibly drained from Stewart’s shoulders, though his eyes still held a flicker of wariness. But Killian saw it, the way his gaze lingered on him just a little too long before flicking away, like he was trying to work out just what kind of man Killian really was. There was still wariness, yes, but also something else. A sparkle of curiosity. Definitely attraction. “You never know with those locks.”

A grin tugged at Killian’s lips. “Told you, they can be sneaky.”

“Since there’s a crackling fire, we need two glasses of apple cider. I’ll be right back,” Stewart said, and Killian swore the guy’s voice had grown a little huskier.

His mate was, without a doubt, throwing off hella mixed signals. Stewart was fighting hard against the pull. Killian wasn’t fighting his attraction, not by a long shot. He had no reason to. Stewart was his mate. That bond was undeniable, and he had all the time in the world to wait for Stewart to figure it out.

As soon as Stewart disappeared into the kitchen, Killian dropped onto the couch, yanking his boots off with a sigh of relief.

Today had started with him spotting his mate on the side of the road, broken down and looking like he was at his wit’s end. He’d seen how Stewart had tucked the toddler into the car with such care, his body braced for some kind of danger from the approaching bikers.

Even before realizing Stewart was his mate, Killian had been drawn to him—his protectiveness, his strength in the face of fear.

Now, as he sat here, the fire crackling in the hearth, the flames casting shadows on the walls, his mind was far from relaxed. It swirled with thoughts of his mate and how much he wanted to reach out, to close the gap between them. To show Stewart just how safe he and Ethan were with him.

The human had no clue just how badly Killian wanted to protect him, but also how much he wanted to feel Stewart’s warmth pressed against his body.

When Stewart returned, he handed Killian one of the mugs, their fingers brushing briefly. It was damn hard to miss the way Stewart’s breath hitched or the way his cheeks flushed.

“Thanks.” Killian took a sip of the hot cider, groaning at how good it tasted.

“You’re welcome.” Stewart sat, deliberately leaving space between them, but it was cool. Killian wasn’t in a rush. For now, just spending time with his mate was enough.

* * * *

Stewart groaned at the warmth surrounding him, a comforting, heavy heat that cocooned him in a haze of contentment. He shifted slightly, realizing his face was pressed into something solid and... breathing? His eyes flicked open, his heart skipping a million beats at the sight before him.

Killian.

The big guy was tucked against the back of the couch, one arm resting along the length of his body, his face relaxed in sleep. Stewart was pressed against Killian’s chest, able to feel the steady rise and fall of the man’s breathing.

They were both still dressed, which meant neither of them had instinctively kicked off clothes in their sleep.

A flush of warmth spread up Stewart’s neck as he became fully aware of their position. Somehow during the night, he’d ended up draped against Killian’s side, practically burrowed into him.

Stewart’s gaze drifted over Killian’s features, taking in his aquiline nose, the strong line of his jaw, and the scruff that had grown darker overnight. He breathed heavily, evenly in his sleep, a peaceful expression on his face.

It was unfair, really—the guy looked annoyingly gorgeous, even when he was unconscious.

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