Page 72 of Sigma
Shit. I figured if something was wrong I’d have missed calls, texts, or voicemails, but I’m not dumb enough to point this out. I also don’t point out that I stopped to get her booze, flowers, and chocolate. As well as to buy myself two rotisserie chickens, which I devoured with my bare hands while driving back. I wore the muzzle before I shifted, to be sure it couldn’t kill anything, and I was beyond ravenous before I had to hike eight hours out of the bush. That chicken barely put a dent in my hunger.
I say, “Just wanted to get back fast. I’ll call next time.”
“The minute you can.”
“The minute I can, guaranteed,” I say.
“You’d better.” She peels her shirt off and throws it. The bra comes off next.
I grin.
But she’s not smiling. In fact, I think my grin is pissing her off even more. She drops the shorts she’s wearing and kicks them off. They hit me.
I take a step closer to her, ready for this reunion.
She flicks her hair back, informing, “I’m going formyrun now. Put those flowers in water and make us some dinner, yeah? I’ll be hungry when I get back.”
She leaves.
Yeah, leaves. Leaves me with my mouth open in shock.
26
CICELY
When I’m back, my mouth is watering. And for more than just the delicious-smelling food he’s cooking at the tailgate of the Airstream on a little grill. He’s freshly showered and shaved, dressed in just a pair of basketball shorts, a baseball cap on his head, his fantastic chest and arms on display. I smell steak. I see foil-wrapped potatoes.
I resist the urge to go straight to him and instead I walk past to go inside the camper and head for the shower, noticing the two foil wrapped dishes on the table as well as the fact that the table is set with plates, cutlery, and the flowers he brought me, which sit in a tall travel mug in the middle of the table. I can’t help but crack a smile.
After I shower, I decide to put a little effort in. I swipe on some black mascara and red lipstick, flip my head and quickly blast my hair with my blow dryer, just enough so it’s no longer sopping wet and is left with some beachy waves. I pull on a red lace one-piece teddy before I put on one of my denim skirts and a cute, frilly blouse.
I hear him come in and smell the food, so I join him. He’s put the potatoes and steaks on our plates already and is peeling the foil off the two dishes while drinking me in with hunger in his eyes. One dish holds fried mushrooms and caramelized onions. The other holds a bowl of buttery green beans. I reach into the fridge and pull out the bottle of the Quinn honey mead, saying, “I’d planned to save this special wine that Mason’s parents sendto newly mated couples for when we knew we were good, but fuck it. Today is a good day. You’re back here safely, you didn’t run away.”
He frowns.
I add, “And since we don’t know what tomorrow will bring, tonight, we enjoy ourselves. I have to say, I’m glad you can cook.”
I set it down on the table and turn back to the cupboard to get some glasses.
He’s directly behind me, arms around my middle, mouth to my mate mark.
He kisses it and says, “Never planned to stay gone. Never even crossed my mind.”
“Good.”
“Sorry I didn’t call. Woke up and just wanted to get back to you. From now on, I’ll call right after.”
“From now on?” I query, turning around to face him.
He cups my jaw with one hand. “Gonna have to do that once a week at minimum. Gotta let it out once a week to run. Gotta have a safe place to lock down ahead of lunar events, too. That’s just how it is for me. Best get used to it. Probably won’t be as long as this most times, but it’s been too long since it could run. Sorry, babe.”
“Okay,” I say.
He gives me another kiss on my neck. “But I’ll call the minute I can.”
“Maybe tomorrow they can measure you when you’re shifted, and we can put a tracking collar or ankle monitor. If I know where you are, I’ll feel better.”
“Whatever you need,” he says and kisses my mate mark again.
