Page 50 of Fated Moons
Which he didn’t.
The coffee maker spattered out the last drop of the dark liquid. His mouth watered in anticipation as he poured it into the mug, steam rising into the air.
The front doorbell dinged, echoing across the house. He glanced at the clock on the microwave, flashing 7:15 a.m. If the paparazzi had crossed the street onto his property, he’d be more than happy to show his teeth and give them something to talk about.
But the bigger concern would be how that had happened.
He pressed his hands against the wood door, closing one eye as he peered through the peephole. His brother, Decker, stood on the stoop, hands on his hips, next to Amanda’s father.
That couldn’t be good.
Twisting the deadbolt, he yanked open the door, thinking he should have at least gone back and put on a shirt.
Not to mention, he smelled like sex.
His brother would be able smell it, but would a wizard?
“Why the hell haven’t you answered your phone?” Decker asked, his voice laced with a tremble of bitterness. Decker had balked at working with any witch but being told to call Prince Alfred if anything odd happened had sent Decker off the deep end.
“I left it on the nightstand when I got up to make coffee.” Jackson stepped back, letting the prince and his brother into the foyer.
“Jackson?” Amanda’s voice called out from the kitchen. “Your phone has been going bonkers. Your brother has called like three times in the last five minutes.”
Jackson sucked in a breath, trying to rip his gaze from her father, who stared at him with an arched brow. He had to mention where he’d left his phone.
“In the foyer,” Jackson called, ignoring his brother’s smirk. “Decker is here and so is your dad.” He stretched his arm out, allowing the prince and his brother to take the lead.
“Oh, hi, Daddy.” Her face flushed as her father kissed her temple. She wore one of Jackson’s button-down shirts she must have snagged from his closet and a pair of his boxers.
He didn’t care she stole his shirt. He actually thought it cute, except for her father glancing between the two of them.
“I’ll make another pot of coffee,” Jackson said.
“Wonderful. We have some things to discuss,” Alfred said, waltzing into the kitchen with a protective arm around his daughter.
“What are you doing here, Dad?”
“We’ve had some developments,” the prince said.
“Let me go put a shirt on. I’ll be right back.” Jackson ducked into his bedroom, his palms sweating and his heart pounding. He’d been around Prince Alfred before. It shouldn’t be this awkward.
Except he’d gone and knocked up his daughter the first time out of the gate.
Not to mention they’d had sex not fifteen minutes ago.
He snagged a black T-shirt, taking a moment to calm his nerves. Amanda was a grown woman who proved to be strong and independent. She was also his mate and Prince Albert knew that. Shaking his hands out, he opened the bedroom door and returned to the kitchen.
Prince Alfred and his brother had perched themselves on the barstools at the island, both palming a steaming mug. The coffee maker gurgled, making a second pot.
Amanda leaned against the counter, one arm around her middle, the other raised as she chomped down on her perfectly manicured nail. His phone had been placed in the center of the island. It was pointless to even look at it now. He should havetaken the third stool, but instead, he stood next to Amanda. When her father cleared his throat, he decided that might have been a mistake.
But he didn’t move.
“Did something happen?” Jackson asked, directing the conversation to what brought them together in an odd alliance.
“At about five this morning, I saw a witch flying low overhead. She stayed hidden in the trees. I almost missed her,” Decker said, swirling a spoon in his coffee. “I picked up her scent before I actually saw her. I don’t know enough about flying and hovering to understand which one she was doing, but she stayed in the air for a long time and there was no fairy dust to be found.”
“Who was this witch? Did you get a good look at her?” Jackson asked, taking the fresh cup Amanda offered him. She leaned against his hip. It was subtle, but it was apparent the prince noticed by the way her father curved a brow.
