Page 43 of Marked

“Almost kissed him,” Caleb corrected, though his wolf’s smug satisfaction through their pack bond told a different story. “Would have been a real kiss by the fountain if that damn clock hadn’t chimed.”

“Your wolf is practically strutting,” Derek growled. “What aren’t you telling us?”

“Nothing much.” Caleb examined his nails. “Just that our little mate has the softest skin, and when I kissed his cheek good night, he made this tiny gasp that—”

He didn’t get to finish. Derek launched himself across the room, and only Caleb’s quick reflexes saved him from being tackled. Marcus’ growl shook the windows.

“Hey!” Caleb danced away from Derek’s grasp. “Not my fault I got to him first! Maybe if someone hadn’t been lurking in the woods all evening—”

“I was protecting him!” Derek snarled.

“From what? The dangerous fountain? The deadly baklava?”

“Both of you, enough.” Marcus’ alpha voice cut through their squabbling. “Caleb. Report. Now.”

“Fine.” Caleb flopped back onto the couch, his expression softening as he remembered the evening. “He’s… perfect. Smart. Funny. Has this sharp wit that keeps you on your toes. And when he lets his guard down…” He sighed dreamily. “His wolf responds to us, even if he doesn’t understand it yet. You should see how he leans in when I get close, how his scar pulses when I touch him.”

“And?” Derek growled, clearly sensing there was more through their pack bond.

“And…” Caleb’s grin turned wicked. “Our little mate is very responsive. Just that tiny kiss on his cheek had him melting. His scent went all honey-sweet, and his pulse…” He shivered dramatically. “Let’s just say if I’d actually kissed him properly, none of us would have made it home tonight.”

Marcus pinched the bridge of his nose, though his own wolf stirred at the thought. “And you’re sure you didn’t push too far? Reveal anything?”

“Give me some credit,” Caleb protested. “Though my wolf nearly lost it when I caught his scent. Pure contentment and trust, even if he doesn’t realize it yet. After everything…” He trailed off, his expression softening.

They shared a moment of silence as they all remembered that night nine years ago.

“Your wolf is still smirking,” Derek grumbled after a moment. “There’s something else.”

Caleb’s grin widened. “Well… I might have gotten his phone number. And he might have agreed to see me again. And he might have watched me walk away with those gorgeous eyes of his…”

The resulting growls made Jorge drop another batch of cookies in the kitchen.

“What?” Caleb laughed, dodging a throw pillow Derek launched at his head. “Jealous much?”

“Just wait until tomorrow,” Derek promised darkly. “My turn with the ‘maintenance inspection.’”

“Brothers.” Marcus sighed, but his lips twitched. “At least tell me you didn’t take him to Athena’s private room.”

“Please,” Caleb scoffed. “I’m saving that for the second date. You know how many couples have gotten… engaged in that room?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“More like how many couples never made it through dessert,” Derek muttered, then his eyes flashed dangerously. “And if you ever take our mate there before we’ve properly claimed him, I’ll rip your throat out.”

“You’ll have to catch me first,” Caleb taunted, already shifting. His golden-brown wolf darted around the sofa just as Derek’s massive gray form lunged after him.

Marcus pinched the bridge of his nose as his brothers chased each other around the room, knocking over an end table. The crash was followed by the distant sound of Jorge dropping another pan in the kitchen, muttering something about “alphas” and “stress ulcers.”

“Enough!” Marcus’ alpha voice froze them both. “If you’re going to act like animals, take it outside. But first…” His eyes gleamed crimson as he began his own shift. “We have a mate to watch over.”

Three wolves slipped into the night, their paws finding familiar paths worn by generations of their ancestors. Marcus’ pitch-black form led the way, his crimson eyes cutting through darkness that had sheltered Stones since they’d first claimed this territory in 1667. Back then, they’d been running from English witch hunters, following whispered promises of sanctuary in the New World. Now, centuries later, the forest recognized them as its own.

Derek’s massive gray form loped easily through the undergrowth, every muscle singing with the joy of running these ancient trails. Their family had shaped this land since those first days, when William Stone and his mate Elizabeth built the original fortified lodge that would become Stone Manor. They’d forged alliances with local Native American tribes, establishing their territory through diplomatic agreements rather than bloodshed. His wolf felt it in his bones—this was their territory, their home, passed down through an unbroken alpha bloodline that had protected supernatural beings for centuries.

Caleb’s golden-brown shape darted between moonbeams, the fastest of the three but tonight keeping pace. His wolf was still preening from their evening with Kai, but here in their ancestral woods, that smug satisfaction mellowed into something deeper. Pride, perhaps, in knowing they could offer their mate such a legacy—a territory that had grown fromWilliam and Elizabeth’s original safe haven into a powerful supernatural domain. Security in knowing every tree, every stream, every shadow of this land that had been home to exceptionally strong Stone alphas since their escape from English witch hunters.

They moved like living shadows through their domain, passing landmarks only wolf eyes would recognize—the trading routes Jonathan Stone established in the 1700s, the territories Victoria Stone expanded during the Gold Rush, and the grounds where Richard Stone laid the foundation for Stone Industries in the 1890s. Their wolves hummed with belonging, with rightness, with the bone-deep knowledge that this was theirs—protected by Margaret Stone’s supernatural alliance system and generations of powerful mate bonds.

Until they reached the edge of the trees near Kai’s cottage, and suddenly, their wolves were humming with something else entirely.

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