Page 140 of Mage Massacres

How the fuck was I supposed to answer that? We were all Magoo’s tonight, thanks to the godsdamn vampire.

“Nice name, man.”

I grunted, kicking the door closed in his face. It was rude, but I’d left a hefty tip to make up for my mood.

The bags swung in my hands as I walked through the house. The smell of curries flowed behind me, though it wasn’t exactly appetizing at the moment.

Sloane and Palmer had returned from checking Millie’s apartment, and my mate had been sitting in the grass in the garden since then. She hadn’t said anything to us, but we all knew she needed a minute to organize her thoughts.

The problem was, she wasn’t thinking. Her mind was blank, silent in a way that was beginning to freak me out. I waited for the tumbleweeds to blow across the desert landscape, but she only felt numb.

York came into the kitchen, emptying a bag of food while we both watched her through the window.

“I expected her to be overwhelmed,” I admitted. “I would be. But why is she so quiet?”

“The last few weeks have been a massacre to her emotions,” York stated. “She’d rather leave them bleeding out in the streets of Belfast than continue to carry them with her.”

“She isn’t processing the changes and issues?” I guessed.

His lips tugged to the left. “She will. She just needed a few uninterrupted minutes to fall apart. Now she’ll talk.”

I nodded my head as he left me, observing his relaxed posture as he approached our mate. He sat beside her in the grass, a single daisy popping up in front of them. Sloane delicately traced the petals, a small smile brightening her face.

York’s question was too low for me to hear clearly, and she shrugged in response.

“I’m pretty sure I love them all. I’m not ready to say it, but I know it’s there, dancing on the tip of my tongue.”

I shoveled a forkful of something into my mouth, wanting to listen and be present in the conversation. I was not good if I was hangry, though.

“...more or less complicated than before?”

Godsdammit, York. I needed him to speak louder.

“Both,” she answered. “I know how intense I can be, so I don’t want to rush into it any more than we already have.”

I tipped my chin at her reply, twisting the cap off a water bottle. She was intense, but I thought that showed her feelings as true and lasting, versus in-the-moment and easily forgotten.

We all knew she cared.

We saw it every day.

Maybe we needed to be more outspoken.

I was a heart-on-my-sleeve kind of guy, but I’d been holding back to give her time to figure herself out. The jump from being alone to having six mates didn’t seem like a simple adjustment.

I wasn’t letting Sloane go.

So why was I waiting for her to decide for the both of us?

I took a swig of water, then clutched the plastic bottle as my stomach grew queasy. I’d thought I was in love before, but the last two weeks had proven me wrong.

Seeing her with a bullet between her eyes had knocked my footing out from under me.

Catching her when that hellish potion had hit her system was the moment my stance solidified.

Everything in me was hers: my heart, my soul, and my wolf. I was hers, and she was mine. She didn’t need to be concerned with the speed when our pace was the same.

She was mine.