Page 61 of Tethered Magick

There was so much history about Jolon and Syler I didn’t know but wanted to ask about, but now wasn’t the time.

“The cabin on the Kwoli lands was one of the nicest places we’ve ever stayed, and this—” He peered around, nodding to Dason who stood on the stairs, waiting for us. “This beats that by a shit ton. So yes, baby, I’m happy here, and I want you to be happy here. This is a place where we can grow together as a pack, as a family. Dason’s intentions to make this more than a house succeeded. This is a home.”

I bounded onto my tiptoes and kissed Jolon. It was a sweet promise with a dirty edge as I nipped his bottom lip when I pulled away.

Leaving him to follow behind, I raced back to Dason and jogged up the steps to where he waited on the first landing.

I threw my hands out to my sides before letting them fall to bounce against my hips. “I’m all yours.”

“You better be.” Dason captured my chin between his fingers, and he lifted my face to his. Slowly, his lips descended until they covered mine in a claiming kiss.

I wondered if he could taste Jolon, and the thought made me squirm with a new kind of hunger.

When he was done, Dason whispered, “Welcome home, little mate,” his warm breath dancing coolly across the flesh his tongue had left damp.

Eighteen

Lorn

Waking up without the sun was going to take some getting used to. The room was dark when I opened my eyes, and it took me a few minutes to reacclimate to where I was and what was going on. Dark blankets had been tacked over the windows, keeping me safe while I slumbered during daylight hours, and the orange glow of sunset was just peeking in from around the edges as I sat up.

The mattress was still warm where Axel had slept beside me, and I ran my palm over the spot, enjoying the lingering heat of his body. The forest and moss notes of his scent tickled my nose, the smell instantly comforting me while also stirring the deep hunger within.

Dammit. I need to eat.

I couldn’t think about anything—not my predicament, my father, the grimoire, or my missing mate bonds—until the thirst starting to gnaw at my insides was sated. Just the thought of blood sent my gums throbbing like a bad toothache where my fangs tried to extend.

Gritting my teeth, I closed my eyes and breathed through the urge to find the nearest beating heart to drain. The men in this house were my mates, and I loved them too much to hurt them.

In. Out. Good.

Finally under control, I slipped from bed and strode to the discarded suitcase on the floor. The zipper sang as I opened it, but the inside was empty… much like my stomach. Pursing my lips, I stood and cocked my head at the lone dresser, a chic, black, six-drawer piece of furniture that sat along one white wall.

The drawer scraped quietly as I opened it. My belongings sat inside in neat rows, one pile after another. After a thorough inspection, I wanted to cry from the thoughtfulness of my mates.

I pulled on a pair of leggings and a slouchy blue shirt that almost matched my eyes. Fingering my damp hair, still wet from my shower last night, I combed the tresses and then pinched my cheeks, hoping to work some color into my pale complexion. Without a mirror, there was no way to check my appearance, but I decided it was good enough and slipped from the room on quiet feet.

I padded past seven other doors spaced along the hallway and down the staircase. The banister was made of wood and thick wire cables, adding to the rustic, modern, industrial vibe the whole house had going for it.

The view of the twilight forest greeted me when I reached the first floor, and I laughed airily to myself, realizing I could definitely get used to waking up to this every morning—er, night.

Dusky blues and purples set off the green of the trees as day yielded to night, allowing me to enjoy the view without fear. I wanted to curl up on the couch and watch the light bleed away, but my stomach clenched into a fist of hunger, reminding me to address my basic needs before giving into the whims of my desires.

Clanging sounds led me to the kitchen where I saw Chayton cooking with his back turned to me. The normalcy of seeing him in his domain was as comfortable as a good book on a rainy day.

I bit my lip, eating up the sight of him. Music played quietly in the background as he moved to the beat, his head, shoulders, and hips dancing in perfect rhythm.

Moving the stool without a sound, I sat down at the island and enjoyed the show.

When he rolled his hips just right, I clenched my thighs as an entirely different hunger awakened while I watched him work his body.

It seemed all I cared about these days were blood and sex, and while blood was still in the number one spot, sex was directly behind it, my need for my mates raw and consuming in the wake of our severed connections. It was weird to be around them and not feel their bonds.

Inside, my primal spirit stirred like the first breath of wind through long summer grass.

I gasped, my hand flying to my chest.

Oh, thank God!

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