That, had most definitely not been an endearment this time, but I nodded once. “Yes.” I continued scowling. “I actually suck at this shit, too, since I care for a rare few, but I at least own up to it without having to be prodded.” I “prodded” away at his chest with a pointed finger, still plenty irked. “Don’t ask that crap in the future if you can’t handle reciprocating, even if it is to say you don’t feel the same.” More. Poking. “I. Will. Always. Want. An. Answer.”
He swatted my hand away like I was a pesky fly, his wolf growling quietly. “I think I’ve got it.” A flicked finger between us. “You care. I care.” He crossed his arms again, shrugging a few times like he was brushing something off. He even cracked his neck. Twice. “Only a little.”
One decisive nod. “Only a little.” I flicked a stiff finger at my lips. “I want a kiss now.” I crossed my arms again.
He growled, but bent woodenly, eye level with me, voicing gruffly, “You’re like a damn splinter under my fingernail that no amount of digging will remove.”
“And you’re like the damn dandelions in my old garden, pretty, but still a weed that no amount of plucking will ever eliminate.”
He grunted. “Good, we still get each other.” He leaned forward, and brushed his—Christ—soft lips over mine curtly as I had demanded…then…not-so-curtly as our lips lingered for a moment against each other’s. We both growled a little as we pulled away from each other, still glaring at the other. He straightened, flicking his finger at the screen, stating curtly, “I want to speak with Ivory Swift.”
“Alright, I need you to picture her in your mind,” I stated precisely, touching his shoulder with a powered, glowing hand, connecting us. “Got it?”
He nodded once, expression now mildly curious.
I made the call directly with his knowledge, since I didn’t know her…then abruptly ended it, glowering. My body hummed in anger, and I crossed my arms just so I wouldn’t whack him silly. “No.”
A black brow lifted. “She’s my accountant.”
Simple. “Get a new one.”
Patiently, he stated, “She’s very good at what she does.”
Dry, furious words. “I bet she is.” I disregarded the few pops of furious stars sizzling off my exposed glowing flesh.
His full red lips trembled a bit. “I meant with my finances.” He cleared his throat when he saw he didn’t have a shot in hell of me calling her again, and exasperated, navy blue eyes raised to the ceiling, muttering something under his breath, and then he mumbled, “Her assistant, then. Jerome Grayson.”
Flicked agitated finger between us. “If we’re still doing this exclusive bit when we get back, I would suggest you seriously think about finding a new accountant.” And…I wasn’t really kidding, five different ways of how to end her already having entered my mind, the woman a damn goddess of a bombshell Shifter in the bed she had been sleeping on, no one next to her, which meant she may be single. I pointed at his crotch, needing clarification. “Has that been anywhere near her?”
An amused word. “That?” He glanced down to his crotch. “Ah, you must mean my cock.” His head tilted, still staring at his pants, tone utterly entertained. “Let me think…my cock has met so many…” His fingers thumped on his worn jeans. “Maybe…” He nodded once, lifting his head, crinkled eyes on me, lips trembling. “Yes, maybe.”
I blinked slowly, glowing a bit brighter. “Maybe?”
His lips trembled a bit more, but his black brows rose unhurriedly. “Do you really want to have the conversation of everyone we’ve slept with?”
I inhaled heavily, jaw clenched. “No.” I turned my back to him, swiping a glowing star sizzling hand in the dead air, a screen popping up. “We’re not anywhere close to that point.” I paused, glancing over my shoulder with narrowed eyes. “But if,” a finger point at his crotch, “that, maybe, goes anywhere near her while we’re exclusive, you’ll definitely need to find someone who’s still living to do your damn taxes.” I called the Jerome Grayson he wished for after he pictured him in his mind, touching him for the connection while ignoring his quiet, deep chuckling. I nodded once, seeing two young Shifter men lying snug in bed. They didn’t appear to be a problem…or competition, especially since I was fairly positive Cain was only into women. I turned, trying to move around him, muttering quietly, “I mean it.”
“I know,” Cain whispered, brushing the backs of his fingers over my glowing, sizzling cheek, not flinching as everyone else did, his own power floating around his fingers protectively. He glanced to the two men still sleeping, then back to me, bending to kiss my forehead softly, voice still a quiet whisper, “You need to cool down before you go out there. You’re currently a bouquet of possessive ferocity. And although, I like it…” Yeah, he didn’t need to say anymore.
I inhaled heavily, closing my eyes…and leaned in toward Cain, scenting him in soothing gulps. He continued running his finger gently over my cheeks. His thumb brushing my pinched brows until they slowly unfurled, then my thinned lips until they parted slowly for his calming touch. Less than a minute later, I sighed heavily, taking one more whiff of him before I opened my eyes, and glanced down to my arms, which were no longer shimmering, only my eyes still glowing for his call. “Alright, I’m good.”
His fingers curled around my hand softly, holding me next to him, whispering against the top of my head, “Sleep toward the edge of the bed tonight.” I nodded slightly, and he kissed my forehead once more before herding me toward the door. “If they ask, just say I called my accountant first before having you call another.”
That had already been my plan, since we had been in here alone for some time now. “Cain?”
He glanced toward the screen, then back to me with a quiet word. “Yes?”
I stared up into navy eyes, reaching for the door handle. “I like that you’re still wearing my gift.” And he was, having put the scarf around his wrist again, intertwining it through his thick black arm band while I had been in the shower, and hardly ever a day went by—always when Leric was around—that he didn’t have it on. And even though the others had Elder Farrar or Elder Samson clean them magically for when they wore theirs, he had too, except for a few small splotches of blood when I had been injured.
Black curls dangling around his face, he brushed my cheek once more, watching his finger’s action. “It’s perfect.” And his lips gently brushed mine once more, in what appeared to be a spur-of-the-moment gesture, before I quickly, and quietly, exited from the bathroom after warning him of the dangers of the screen.