Page 54 of Sinful Mates

It was the best. Perfect, actually.

“I forgot.” Alaric fished something out of his pocket. “Keep this by your bed at night.” He gave her his pen. “It’s a pen that doubles as a monster and god knocker.” He trailed a finger along the plastic. “You hit them on the toes, and they can’t walk anymore.”

Mia might be a little old to believe that, but she sucked it all up, her eyes lighting up, and the ache in my chest relaxed. “Really?”

Alaric demonstrated with a tap on Slade’s boot and the president went along with it, rubbing his foot. “Don’t swing it too much and go crazy or you might break something.” He tapped Slade on the head and the president pretended to faint and Mia giggled.

Alaric gifted her his pen.

She swung it back and forth. “Can I write more high-row-glyphs to make the monsters and gods disappear?” She turned it over in her hands.

“I’ll teach you some spells,” Castor told her.

“Yes!” Mia launched off Alaric into my dominant man’s arms and he rocked back to catch her.

I nearly started to bawl at this beautiful scene. All that was missing was Zethan, but I sensed his calming, stoic presence behind me.

I brushed hair from Mia’s forehead. “Honey, are you feeling brave enough to go to bed?” It was a little early, but things like this took it out of me.

Mia clutched the pen to her chest. “Yeah. Can I sleep here tonight?”

Goddess. Zethan’s story really frightened her. Getting her to sleep in her own bed might be a fight from now on. We’d have to discuss serious topics like this and get ahead of them.

“I’ll stay and watch you, little bird.” Alaric opened his arms for her, and she went to him, clinging to him, and he whispered into her hair, “You don’t have to be scared. I’ll always protect you.”

Fuck. That got me. Tears came, thick and fast, and I swiped at them, unable to catch them all.

I never thought I had this much love in my heart. Bursting at the seams, it snaked around the bond, hugging it tightly, never wanting to let go of these men deeply entrenched in my soul and heart. Where I healed my broken mate, he returned the favor with his own brand of healing.

“Night, sweetie.” I lay a kiss on top of Mia’s head, and she murmured, already getting sleepy, her eyes drooping. I dropped a kiss to Alaric’s lips before backing out of the fortress.

“Got a goodnight hug for me, bossy boots?” Slade asked.

She crawled off Alaric to give him one then quickly returned to her nest of comfort. My hawk and little falcon. My world. My hearts.

CHAPTER19

Slade

Adrenaline.Testosterone. Gas fumes. Car engines whined as they were pushed to the limits of the tight curves of the Mount Panorama Racetrack. Screeching tires and the buzz of racing cars. Pit crews scrambling to change tires and conduct repairs to vehicles. Grid girls in short, tight shorts and even tighter crop tops, cleavage spilling out. The chaotic atmosphere made me feel alive. I thrived on the crackle under my skin.

Wind teased my hair and it scratched the shaved sides of my head. Beers in hand, my men and I relaxed on the balcony of Rydges hotel. Prime viewing overlooking the race with a panoramic view of the mount and the cars racing across the track. Afforded us from the VIP tickets we bought every year. Part sponsorship and part tax break.

Each year, we invited and hosted clubs we had good relations with and sought to maintain shipping channels for Pharaoh through to our distributors and customers. Gestures that were returned when we needed to call in favors.

This year, a small riding club in Lithgow—forty-five minutes east of Bathurst—reached out to me to attend. Thinking about the future, scaling back for my woman, stepdaughter, and my stress levels, I agreed for them to attend. Dash, the president, and Steele, his VP, drank with us on the balcony. They were shifters, which gave them an advantage over humans, one of the main reasons I accepted their request to enter our territory.

Speakers blared with the excited drone of the race callers. The crowd went wild at the announcements. The bookies’ favorite took first place. I didn’t give a shit either way. Had bets on most cars. Castor was a mathematical genius when it came to calculating the winning odds. Every year we came away with a few grand in successful bets.

“Drink, sir?” A server chick with her tits squashed together and makeup as thick as war paint batted her eyelashes at me. She earned plenty of tips from the four clubs who were our guests on the balcony.

Complimentary food, drinks, and servers with the rental of the VIP booth. Tax deductible, as Zethan like to remind me. Fuck. Used to remind me of when he was VP and assisted with the books. Nowadays, he didn’t give a shit about contributing besides a filthy glare at me and murderous warnings at anyone that approached me. My bond felt the gaping distance between us like a canyon, its only companion the wind howling its lonely tune.

I nodded at the server. “Get us more heated entrees.” The men grumbled about starving, and we ought to be gracious hosts.

“Yes, sir.” The server ducked her head, then glanced up at me, smiling through her eyelashes. Girls like her—young, vapid, gold diggers—only wanted two things from me. Sex and money.

I didn’t give her the time of day when she didn’t compare to my mate. Didn’t smell like rain and fucking sunshine. Didn’t make my heart beat faster or my dick hard.

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