Page 8 of Marked
I roll my eyes, elbowing her back with a smile before starting across the lawn toward my mate. Javi’s still whispering in her ear, watching me intently as I make my way over to them.
Cheyenne’s gaze darts around the lawn nervously, and I belatedly realize that all eyes are on us. My pack knows I’ve found my mate, and now the two of us are a spectacle, everyone watching our interaction intently. From the looks of things, it doesn’t appear that Chey is enjoying all the attention.
“Do you wanna go somewhere quieter to talk?” I ask as I approach, ignoring the crowd of curious onlookers. “My parents aren’t back yet, but we might wanna clear out before they show up and become aggressively congratulatory.”
Chey nods quickly, downing the rest of her drink. “Can I get a refill on the way?” she asks, the ice in her glass clinking as she lifts it in indication.
“Of course,” I grin.
I beckon her with a flick of my head and she peels away from Javi, my pulse thrumming harder as she starts toward me. I was already attracted to Chey; more than I have been to any other she-wolf. Now, it’s an all-consumingneedto be close to her. To protect her. To touch her and hold her and make her mine.
She comes up alongside me and I pivot to join her in walking toward the packhouse, the two of us easily falling into step with one another. I’ve never been awkward or nervous around beautiful women before, but I’m suddenly having trouble forming a coherent thought, at a complete loss for words to fill the silence between us. I’m still struggling for something to sayas I lead her into the packhouse kitchen, opening the fridge and frowning when I look inside.
“Shit, we don’t have any more cranberry,” I grumble, wishing I’d thought ahead and ordered some.
“Just the vodka’s fine,” she quips.
I raise a brow as I turn to look at her, assuming she’s joking. Her deadpan stare tells me she isn’t, so I nudge the fridge closed and snatch the vodka bottle off the counter with a shrug, leading her out of the kitchen and down the hall.
“Let’s go up to my room,” I murmur, glancing back at Chey as we reach the base of the stairs.
She stops in her tracks, amber eyes popping wide. “Uhhh…”
“Hey, I’m not angling to try anything,” I chuckle as I swivel to face her, holding up my hands in surrender. “I just… with the whole pack hanging around, I figured that’s the best place for us to get some peace and quiet.”
Cheyenne visibly recoils at that suggestion, retreating a step and shaking her head. “Sorry, I just…”
“No, it’s okay,” I rush out in an attempt to smooth things over. “I didn’t… I don’t… shit, I’m screwing this up already, aren’t I?” I heave a sigh, scrubbing a hand over my face as I try to collect my thoughts.
Why the fuck is it so hard to eventhinkaround her?
“I know where we can go,” I say as an idea strikes me, beckoning her with a wave and starting toward the front door.
She hesitates for a beat before following, but she does, so I take that as a win. Even more so when I bring her across the street to my parents’ house and gesture to the wicker chairs on the front porch, earning a tight-lipped smile of approval.
I reach for her glass as I take a seat, Chey sinking down into the one beside me as I uncap the vodka bottle and tip in a healthy pour.
“Sorry about my pack,” I drawl as I hand it over to her. “They’re just really excited to have a Luna.”
She throws back the vodka, downing it in two seconds flat. Then she wipes her mouth off on a wrist, resting the glass on her knee as she stares off into the distance. “Aren’t you going to ask?”
“Ask what?”
“About this,” she sighs, flipping her hair back and pulling at the collar of her t-shirt to expose the mate mark on her skin.
“I figured you’d tell me if you wanted me to know,” I shrug.
She snaps her head in my direction, her lips turning down in a frown. “You don’t have to do that.”
My brow furrows. “Do what?”
“This whole nice guy thing,” she sighs, waving a hand. “You can drop the act now that we’re away from prying eyes.”
“What act?” I scoff.
Chey rolls her eyes, reaching over to set her glass on the little side table between us. “Please. You can’t honestly tell me you’re okay with being fated to someone who’s already marked.”
“I told you before, that doesn’t matter to me,” I insist, pinning her with an unyielding stare as I reach for her hand. “Fate put us together for a reason, and I’m interested in exploring that if you are.”
