Page 88 of Savage Blood
A laugh bubbled out of my mouth. “That would be entertaining.”
“You guys,” Nora chided, sprinkling garlic onto the meat. “Don’t terrorize her. Camus has enough going on with Reese. We don’t need to add a meltdown from Marissa to his worries.”
The back door opened, and Ephraim walked in, wiping sweat from his forehead and brushing damp copper hair fromhis face. Pieces of grass stuck to his pants and bare arms, and a few specks of it lingered in his thick beard.
“Maybe just terrorize her a little.” Fane’s uncle squeezed his thumb and index finger together.
His wife threw him a look over her shoulder. “Don’t encourage the children, dear. They’re too young and impressionable.”
“Young and impressionable?” Ephraim scoffed. “Dylan is well on his way to becoming a master at sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night. And Tate…?”
I’d soared past young and impressionable by twelve.
“Tate is our perfect little angel,” Ephraim said before pressing a kiss to Nora’s cheek.
I chuckled. “Angel of destruction, maybe.”
Nora tsked and grabbed the saltshaker. “Nonsense. You’re our little angel—just with really sharp teeth and claws.”
“Did I hear someone call me?” Preston shut the front door with his foot and jogged into the living room. “Iamthe angel of the family.”
Sweat glistened on his bronzed skin, dampened his blonde hair, and soaked his UGA t-shirt. He tossed the basketball between his hands before dribbling it on the shiny hardwoods.
“More like the hellion of the family.” Ephraim snatched a pecan from Dylan’s cutting board.
Preston’s jaw dropped. “Take that back. I’m perfect.”
“Perfectly annoying,” Dylan muttered.
A genuine smile pulled at my lips as warmth twisted in my chest. Being in Mohan Wilds around the Anders family made me feel like I wasn’t the worst person in the world. I had a family. At least I did for now.
Preston tossed the ball onto a chair at the large kitchen table and shortened the distance between us. “Give me a hug.”
I grimaced as he wrapped his sweaty arms around me. “Ugh! Go take a shower. You stink.”
“So do you,” he grumbled, pulling away.
My head jerked back. Then I lifted my shirt and sniffed it. “No, I don’t.”
“You smell like Saint Grimstone.” Preston stole a chocolate chip before sauntering to the massive stainless-steel fridge. “Fane’s scent is still there, but it’s buried beneath Saint’s.”
Heat flooded my cheeks, and I diverted my gaze from Preston to the brownie batter. “We’ve just been spending a lot of time together.”
Nora’s faint growl, directed at her eldest, sounded through the kitchen, and she threw a piece of onion at him. “We know, sweetheart, and we understand why you and Saint are spending so much time together.”
All the warmth and humor drained out of me, and I longed to bury my head beneath the counter. Would the Anderses never speak to me again if my fated mate bond with Saint drove Fane away?
Dylan wrapped his arm around my shoulders and squeezed. “My brother’s an idiot with absolutely no tact.”
But he was right.
“I know it’s not your choice,” Preston said, grabbing a pitcher of orange juice from the fridge. “Saint seems to enjoy it, though.”
The hint of bitterness in his words was unmistakable.
Ephraim laughed. “Of course he is. Why wouldn’t he enjoy spending time with Tate? We all do.”
Preston poured the juice into a glass and returned the pitcher to the fridge. “My cousin is thick-headed and stubborn, but he’s not handling this as well as he wants everyone to believe.”
