Page 146 of Devoted

I breathed in his scent. My Sam. My mate.

He was here. He was safe. He was calm. He knew the truth.

And he loved me.

He loves me.

For that fact alone, I’d never leave this man wanting. He’d seen something in me that no one else ever had. Something worthy of love. Of care. Of affection.

I was never letting him go.

Sam slept for about two hours. I stayed beside him the whole time, not wanting him to wake up alone.

The only time I even looked away from him was when I realised there was a question I’d neglected to ask Ferry.

A very important question, given the deadline Gloria had imposed on us.

Not wanting to leave Sam, I opened the group thread.

Ezekiel

can someone reach out to Ferry and ask him if it’s safe to mark Sam?

It was a good thing I was immortal, because I don’t think I took a single breath until Micah’s response flashed up.

Micah

he believes it should be fine, but recommends you don’t leave it more than a few minutes between marking and bonding

that way, if his brain fights it, the mating bond will be in place before it causes any damage

It wasn’t the answer I’d been hoping for, but it wasn’t the worst outcome either. If I had my way, I’d mark Sam now, just so he had that extra protection. I hadn’t done it before because doing so without his knowledge of what I was felt…wrong.

Now though, with memories of his agonised screams still ringing in my ears, I wanted him to have whatever advantages I could give him.

At least it wouldn’t be a permanent roadblock though. With the threat of Gloria looming over our heads, I needed to make Sam my mate sooner rather than later.

Or, take him and run. Because if he wasn’t ready, that was the option I’d choose.

Sam stirred, pulling me out of my dark thoughts. “What time is it?”

“Two in the afternoon. You’ve been out for a couple of hours.”

“Crap.” He yawned, his jaw cracking. “My phone’s going to start blowing up soon.”

“Why soon?”

“Americans,” he said sleepily. “Most of my clients live on the East Coast, so it gets to three o’clock our time and they all start hitting me up for different things.”

He tried to make his way out of his burrito but failed. I watched him struggle for a few seconds longer with a small smirk. “Would you like some help?”

“Please,” Sam huffed, before grinning at me. “Honestly, you could enter the world duvet burrito championships and walk out with a gold medal.”

I unravelled him, watching him stretch like a cat as I did so. “I don’t think that exists.”

“Shame.” Sam ruffled his hair, his curls in an adorable disarray. “Maybe we should start them. Enter you as a candidate and then place bets on you to win. We could make millions.”

I was already worth millions. Something else I needed to fill Sam in on. “Some people call that bet fixing.”

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