Page 45 of Marked

His brothers hadn’t done it justice.

“No.” The word came out as more growl than speech, his wolf too close to the surface to manage anything more eloquent.Their little mate, all fire and wit even while vulnerable. It was… intoxicating.

“Oh.” Kai shifted, trying to keep the towel in place and only drawing more attention to it. “So the water stopping while you’re mowing near the water main is just…”

“Coincidence.” He growled the word. His hands flexed at his sides, claws threatening to emerge as Kai’s scent—clean and sweet and spiced with that hint of defiance—wrapped around him. The military man in him appreciated the strategic thinking, the way their mate questioned the suspicious timing. The wolf just wanted to pin him against the nearest surface and—

Their mate took a step back, those clever eyes narrowing despite his obvious nervousness. Smart boy. So smart. And then he was slipping, falling—

Derek moved without thought, military training and wolf instincts working in perfect harmony for once. He caught their mate against his chest, and oh… oh, this was dangerous. Kai felt even better in his arms than he’d imagined, all soft skin and lean muscle and perfect, perfect size.

“Careful, little mate.”

The words slipped out before his iron control could catch them. The scent of Kai’s surprise spiked, mixed with something sweeter that made his wolf howl.

“I mean,” he corrected roughly, but couldn’t make himself let go. If anything, his arms tightened, one hand spanning Kai’s entire lower back while the other… was definitely not moving to find the towel. “The grass is slippery.”

Thirteen years of special forces training. Multiple combat decorations. The highest level of military discipline.

All undone by one tiny, sassy, half-naked mate who was currently pressed against him, dripping wet and smelling like heaven.

His wolf had never been more smug.

Chapter 10

When I woke up, my head was fuzzy with memories of last night’s dinner with Caleb. The early morning sun was already high, streaming through windows I hadn’t cleaned yet. Note to self: add “remove decade of dust” to the growing list of cottage maintenance nightmares, right under “figure out what that noise in the attic is” and “determine if the basement is actually haunted.”

The sound of a lawn mower jerked me fully awake. Who the hell mows the lawn at this ungodly hour?

Cedar Grove, apparently. Because normal small-town logic clearly didn’t apply here.

I dragged myself to the bathroom, deciding whoever was destroying the dewy grass could wait until after my shower. The ancient pipes groaned like tortured souls as I turned on the water, but at least it was hot. Small mercies in a cottage that seemed determined to fall apart around me.

I was in the middle of washing my hair, contemplating the strange normalcy of dinner with Caleb—and definitely notthinking about how good he looked in that leather jacket or how his eyes seemed to glow when he laughed or—nope, not thinking about it at all—when the water suddenly… stopped.

Just stopped. Mid-shampoo. Because of course it did. Because apparently, the universe had decided I hadn’t been humiliated enough this week.

“No, no, no…” I frantically twisted the handles. Nothing. Not even a sputter. The pipes just sat there, mocking me with their silence.

That’s when I heard it. Again. The lawn mower. Which had been near the back of the house. Where the water main probably was. Because why wouldn’t someone be mowing dangerously close to essential utilities?

“Son of a—” I grabbed my sad excuse for a towel. The one that was more holes than terry cloth at this point, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. And I was in the begging category of life right now. Wrapping it precariously around my waist—trying to find the least threadbare section to preserve what was left of my modesty—I stormed toward the back door, shampoo dripping into my eyes and probably taking my dignity with it.

I burst outside, ready to tell off whatever maintenance person had destroyed my water line, and stopped dead.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

The man by mydefinitely not brokenwater main was… massive. Like, “did-you-eat-the-last-maintenance-guy” massive. All muscle and tactical gear and—wait, who does lawn maintenance in tactical gear? He looked like he’d just stepped out of some special ops calendar, all broad shoulders and rippling forearms and… Was he growling?

I blinked shampoo out of my eyes, suddenly very aware of how naked and wet I was. Droplets ran down my chest, and his eyes—a strange amber color that had to be contacts as no one had eyes that literally glowed—followed their path with anintensity that made my skin tingle. The tiny towel chose that moment to slip dangerously low on my hips.

The growling got louder. Actually got louder. Like he was some kind of… but no, that would be crazy. Crazier than everything else in this town, which was saying something.

“Um.” My voice came out embarrassingly high. “You wouldn’t happen to have destroyed my water pipe with your murder-mower, would you? Because I’ve got to say, that’s some impressive timing. Like, Olympic-level inconvenient timing. Gold medal in ‘Making Kai’s Morning Weird.’”

His eyes—seriously, they had to be contacts—dragged up my body so slowly I felt it like a physical touch. My scar tingled, which was not helping the situation. “No.”

Just that. One word. In a voice that rumbled like thunder and did inappropriate things to my insides. Great. He was hot AND monosyllabic. Because apparently, the universe wasn’t done messing with me yet.

---