Page 55 of Marked

“They won’t hurt you,” Marcus said, amusement coloring his voice as I used him as a human shield.

“Tell that to your pillows,” I muttered, eyeing Scout’s wagging tail with suspicion. “I’ve seen how they ‘play.’”

“Storm, Scout, Shadow,” Derek commanded. “Out.”

The beasts actually listened this time, though Scout gave me one last hopeful look that definitely didn’t make me clutch Marcus’ shoulders tighter.

“They really like you,” Caleb observed, grinning.

“Yeah, like a chew toy,” I grumbled, finally releasing my death grip on Marcus and collapsing back onto the couch.

Marcus’ phone buzzed. He glanced at it, jaw tightening slightly. “I need to take this.” He moved to the far corner, his voice a low murmur that somehow made the room feel smaller, more intimate.

Heavy footsteps approached, and a man in tactical gear appeared in the doorway. “Sir,” he addressed Derek in a low voice, but I caught fragments. “…tracks in the north sector… fresh within the hour…”

Derek’s entire demeanor shifted, the casual lounging replaced by coiled tension, his expression thunderous. Without a word, he strode out, the security man falling into step behind him.

“Stay,” he called over his shoulder, like I was going anywhere when this couch was basically holding me hostage with comfort.

Rapid-fire Spanish suddenly erupted from somewhere down the hall. Maria’s voice rose above Jorge’s, something about “proper Spanish hospitality” and “promised him paella.” Jorge fired back about “authentic Greek cuisine” and “already marinating the lamb.”

Marcus, still on his phone, caught Caleb’s eye and jerked his head toward the commotion. Caleb rolled his eyes dramatically but hauled himself up. “The joys of being the family mediator.” He sighed. “Don’t go anywhere, beautiful.”

I curled up in my corner of the couch, pulling the throw blanket around me. The quiet of the room seemed to wrap around me like a second blanket, and Marcus’ voice created a soothing rhythm from the corner—something about quarterly reports and profit margins that should have been boring but instead felt like a lullaby.

The throw was impossibly soft against my skin, and the cushions seemed to know exactly how to cradle my tired body. Marcus’ presence felt like an anchor, keeping the anxiety thathad plagued me all week at bay. My eyes grew heavy as his voice washed over me, deep and melodic…

“The projections for third quarter…” Marcus’ words faded into a gentle hum, and I drifted off to the strangest feeling of finally being exactly where I belonged.

Chapter 12

STONE BROTHERS

Marcus ended the call with a soft click, already turning to check on their mate. The sight made his breath catch.

Kai had curled into an impossibly small ball on the massive couch, Miguel’s borrowed t-shirt making him look even more delicate. Somehow, their dogs had snuck back in—Scout pressed against Kai’s legs, Storm a vigilant presence at his feet, and Shadow maintaining a protective position near his head. They formed a perfect circle around their sleeping mate, exactly as they would in the wild.

The scene tugged at something primal in Marcus’ chest. This was how it should be—their mate, safe and protected, surrounded by the pack.

He moved closer, settling into the chair beside the couch. Shadow shifted slightly, making room for his master while maintaining his guard position. Marcus couldn’t resist reaching out, fingers ghosting over Kai’s cheek. Even in sleep, Kai leaned into the touch, a soft sound escaping his lips.

“Well, isn’t that just adorable,” Caleb’s amused voice came from the doorway. He dropped into the chair opposite Marcus.“Our fierce guard dogs, reduced to puppy puddles by one tiny human.”

Marcus smirked, not taking his eyes off Kai. “Who won?”

“Tía Maria, of course.” Caleb rolled his eyes. “Jorge tried arguing that Kai likes Greek food, but Tía Maria pulled the aunt card and Spanish hospitality. No one wins against a Spanish aunt with generations of family recipes.”

“Paella for lunch, then?” Derek’s rough voice joined them as he slipped in. His expression softened at the sight of Kai curled up with their wolves.

“Tía Maria’s special recipe,” Caleb confirmed. “Though Jorge extracted a promise that he could make moussaka tomorrow. You know how he gets about expanding his culinary horizons.”

“They’re already fighting over feeding him.” Derek settled onto the arm of Caleb’s chair, his usual military precision gentled by the peaceful scene before them.

“He’s so small,” Caleb murmured, watching Kai shift in his sleep. The wolf t-shirt rode up slightly, exposing a strip of pale skin and the edge of their silvery pre-mark. All three brothers tensed, guilt and possessiveness warring in their chests at the sight of the scars they’d been forced to give him so young, protective fury rising at the memory of why it had been necessary. “Was he always this small?”

“Bigger than when we marked him.” Derek’s voice held old pain. “But still…”

“Perfect size,” Marcus finished, remembering how perfectly Kai had fit against him earlier, all lean muscle and delicate bones.

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