Page 79 of Sight of Fate

“Whoa,” Alex exclaims. “Plural. That’s awesome.” His phone pings. “Got to go. Lots to do. See you tomorrow night!”

“Do you think I should bring Teague and Andros? Those are the only mates I have right now,” I tease, bringing the discussion back to the two of us.

He glances at our empty plates, then pulls me out of my seat. One hand carries my box of desserts, and the other lightly presses against my back. He maneuvers us out of the bakery and down the street to his truck. He puts the desserts inside, then shuts the door.

Pivoting, he guides me down Main Street, but when he sees the crowd, he skirts around them to a side street.

“I want to see,” I tell him, needing some closure on what happened to me.

His lips compress. “It’s not a pretty sight. Are you sure?”

I nod, and he tugs me toward the crowd. The minute they see him, the chatter stops, and the bodies part. Macklin nods at a few, greets others, and pulls me to the center.

Five poles have been driven into the middle of Main Street. Four heads sit on top, mouths open, wrinkled balls between their lips. I barely look at the others. Only Martin. My hand balls into a fist. He got what he deserved. They all did.

Turning, I cup Macklin’s neck and pull his lips down to meet mine, kissing him in front of everyone, in the middle of the city he built for them.

Ending the kiss, he murmurs, “What was that for?”

“Making my own statement.”

He chuckles and takes my elbow. “Let’s go.” He returns to the side street and over to the park. When we get there, he leads me to a large, half-buried grey rock in the center with a bronze plaque embedded in the stone. Embossed on the plaque’s surface…Greystone Vale, Estd. 1337.

“This is the very first stone I laid in this valley. To celebrate the start of a new beginning for Andros, Teague, and me, and a vow to create a sanctuary for all supernaturals. Where we could shift, use magic, and live without fear. It’s why I named this place Greystone Vale.” Macklin holds out his large hand. “I can’t think of a better place to start our beginning.”

With tears in my eyes, I clasp his hand, pressing my palm against his palm. The world flips on its axis, and a sensation of free-falling washes over me.

“Mine. My Mate,” he growls, pulling me into his arms and sealing his lips over mine.

Chapter Thirty-Three

CHARLI

Three mates. For a girl who’s never had a boyfriend, three mates is a bit overwhelming. Okay, a lot overwhelming. Although one wants nothing to do with me, which he made very clear when I visited him in the hospital yesterday. The second I walked in, he wanted to know exactly what I did, how much blood I gave him, and where I got the information. Then he informed me that vampires have the option of rejecting their mates. Not wanting him to know his words stung, I shrugged, then thanked him for saving my life.

Hopefully, he can’t hear me like Teague.

Andros?

I wait, but there’s no answer.

I don’t think it works the same with vampire mates.

Macklin’s voice in my head is full of warmth and reassurance, the same way it is in person. There’s a faint sense of worry behind it, though, that has me reaching for his hand.

“You were right to wait. This has been a huge change for me. Moving here. New job. New home. Having supernatural mates. I’m trying to cope, but as Teague can tell you, I backslide.”

His face is blank, but I can tell by the little crinkle in his forehead that he’s thinking pretty hard. He pulls the truck into the underground garage and parks.

Before he can get out, I slide over and straddle his lap. My hands cup his granite jaw. “I’m happy about you and me. And if you don’t believe me, check. Teague says I’m practically an open book.”

There’s a faint vibration between us, and a minute later, his lips curl in that slow smile that makes me melt from the inside out. His body hardens beneath me, and my cheeks flare with heat. “Sorry. I⁠—”

His large forearms wrap around my back, and he pulls me tight to his body, then his mouth descends on mine. Like earlier, his kiss is an exploration, unhurried and thorough, as if kissing me is his sole focus. His fingers play with my hair and lightly massage my neck, but not once does he touch me anywhere else. Or thrust up between my legs. If it weren’t for our connection, I’d wonder if he was really into me, but I can feel the current of need between us. I can also feel the control he’s exerting to keep his body on simmer instead of letting it take over. Macklin likes to set the pace.

I try to follow his lead, but I can’t. My body skyrockets past simmering. Maybe it’s because it now knows what an orgasm feels like. Pressing against him, I gasp at the feel of him between my legs.

He abruptly pulls away and picks up his phone. “On our way.”