Page 31 of Mated to the Human: Volume One

“Okay.” Jake rummaged in the cabinet for a can of chicken and stars soup. Heat rose in his cheeks when he found it. It’d been what his mom always fixed them if he or Calliope didn’t feel well, and here he was, a full-grown adult who always had at least one can at the ready. Taking a breath, he decided he wasn’t going to be embarrassed about it and pulled the soup and a pack of crackers from the cabinet. “Here,” he laid the crackers on the table beside the water. “Try to munch on those. I’ll make you some soup.”

5

Cane hadn’t expected Jake to come after him. It was always a possibility, of course, but it actually happening had blown him away. He picked up the water again, taking another small sip. His stomach was typically a bit touchy after a fight, but with the knee he’d taken and being subdued like that, it was worse than usual.

“Do you know who those men were?” Jake asked from the stove. He had his back to Cane, stirring something in a small sauce pot. Chicken soup, from the smell of it.

He cleared his throat. “No. Nothing like that’s ever happened before.”

Jake threw a hard glance over his shoulder. “How often do you fight in those things?”

Cane shrugged. Winced. Then, readjusted the ice pack against his throbbing eye. “Every other month or so.” He could see Jake’s shoulders tense up from across the kitchen.

Jake poured the soup into a big mug, dropped a spoon in it, and brought it over to the table. He seated himself in the chair beside Cane and set the soup in front of him. “Eat.”

His stomach was settling so he braved it. Some kind of food in his system would definitely help him keep some ibuprofen down. “Thanks.” He picked up the spoon and blew on the steaming soup, smiling a bit to himself at the star-shaped noodles.

“It’s the best when you’re sick, so I don’t want to hear any flak about it.” Jake turned in his chair so he was facing Cane. “So, you don’t know who those guys were, but do you know why they attacked you?”

Humans shouldn’t marry freaks.

Shit, he’d forgotten. The man who’d punched him said that right before he blacked Cane’s eye. A new thread of rage slithered through Cane. He didn’t like someone—even a douchebag in a bandana mask—talking about Jake like that. Keeping his focus on his soup, Cane said, “Maybe they bet on the other guy.”

Jake sighed, and Cane felt his irritated gaze boring into the side of his face.

With a sigh of his own, Cane sat back in his chair and lowered the ice pack, turning his head so he could look Jake in the eye. “He may have had some choice words to say about humans and paranormals marrying each other.”

Jake’s eyes went hard, and his mouth set in a grim line. “They attacked you because of me.”

Cane furrowed his brow, winced because it hurt, and then pressed the ice back to his face. “No, they attacked me because I chose to mate with you.”

Standing with a squeak of chair legs against the floor, Jake went to the sink and started washing the pot he’d used to make Cane’s soup. “I need to tell Calliope about this.”

“Now?”

“Yeah. Sis will be pissed if I wait until tomorrow. She doesn’t like to find out she slept through the big things.”

“And this is a big thing?”

Jake turned from the sink, leveling him with that hard stare. “You’re my mate. Someone attacked you because of it. Yes, Cane. That’s a big thing.”

Cane lifted the hand holding his spoon in a motion of surrender. “Alright. Usually, people only make such a fuss when I’m the one who caused the big thing.”

Jake folded his arms across his chest. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten how you ran off in the middle of the night to fight in an underground cage match. That’s a big thing, too.” He shrugged. “It’s just the lesser of the two…for now.”

Cane felt scolded. He’d long since learned to tune out his mother’s constant barrage of admonishment. Coming from Jake, it chafed in a way it hadn’t in years. His hackles rose without a single conscious thought from him. “Oh, for now, huh? Consider me terrified.” He put the spoon in the mug and stood, letting the ice pack drop to the table. “And I’m sorry. Didn’t realize I was a fucking prisoner here. Is there a form to fill out every time I want to walk out the goddamn door?” He braced himself, ready for whatever Jake would throw back at him.

For a moment, Jake didn’t say anything. Then his fists unclenched, arms falling loose at his sides. When he spoke, his voice was even, devoid of the irritation it’d held only moments ago. “I’m sorry. Of course you’re free to come and go as you please. I just…” He braced his hands behind him on the counter’s edge. “I was worried, and then getting there and seeing you in the cage with those men…it scared me.” He shook his head. “They’re lucky the craters ended up in the building and not their hide.”

Silence filled the kitchen. Cane had no idea what to say to that. Well, he had some idea. He’d never been good at apologizing. In recent years, he’d made it his mission not to bother—even when he was contrite. That was with his mother, though, and it wasn’t fair to lump Jake in with her. She’d made it clear a long time ago that her only priority was looking like the perfect, upstanding family she wanted them to be. Jake wasn’t worried that Cane had ruined his image or embarrassed him. He was worried about Cane.

Cane cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.”

Giving him a little nod, Jake turned, opened a slim upper cabinet, and pulled out a white bottle. He walked to Cane, shaking a couple pills out into his hand. “Here”—he passed them over—“take these and finish your soup. You feeling steady enough to shower on your own?”

A bit dumbfounded at how easily Jake had accepted his apology, Cane did as he was told, swallowing the pills with the last of his water. “I should be good. Thanks.”

“Good. I’m going to go talk to Calliope.”

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