“It is, so thank you,” said Havana, stiffly accepting a hug from the bearcat. When it went on a little too long, Havana struggled. “Okay, you can let go now.”
“Do I have to?”
“Yes, dork.”
Snickering, Aspen stepped back.
“Real pleased for you both,” Camden said, his eyes dancing from Havana to Tate. “It’s about time we had some good news around here.”
“News?” echoed Bailey, strolling into the room. “What news? We have news on the license plate number?”
“Take a look at Havana’s neck,” said Aspen, grinning.
Bailey did, and her brows lifted. “Well, now.”
“It gets better,” Aspen told her. “Tate says he feels the pull of a mating bond.”
Bailey gaped. “Really? That’s awesome. Wait, you don’t feel it yet, Vana?”
“It would seem that something on my end is blocking its frequency,” said Havana, folding her arms, knowing she sounded sulky and not feeling all that apologetic about it. “I’ll figure out what it is eventually.”
Bailey gave a little clap. “I’m so happy for you.”
Havana threw up her hand when Bailey moved toward her, her arms open wide. “I already had to deal with a hug from Aspen. I don’t need another.”
“Suck it up, sister.”
Havana sighed as the mamba’s arms wrapped around her.
“I’m feeling left out,” said Aspen, diving on them both and hugging them tight. “Ah, that’s better. Don’t you think so, Vana?”
Havana felt her upper lip curl. “What I think is that if you both don’t stop with this shit, I will cut you.”
Bailey pouted. “But we’re cold.”
Havana effortlessly shoved them both backwards, making them grin like loons. Hoping to distract them from drowning her in more hugs, she said, “Tate does have some news about the license plate number. Sadly, it didn’t belong to the Charger.”
Aspen frowned. “Really? Shit.”
Bailey’s shoulders sagged. “Gideon wasn’t wrong in what he said over the phone at the motel—finding him won’t be easy.” She slid her gaze to Tate. “Aspen told me he called you earlier, smug because he thought Havana was dead.” The mamba licked her front teeth. “I really hope you’re not planning to kill him quickly, because he needs to suffer a little before he croaks.”
“No quick death for him. You’ll get your pound of flesh. We all will.” Tate guided Havana into the kitchen. “Anything in particular you feel like eating?”
Startled by the question, she blinked. “You don’t have to make—”
“I want to feed you, relax you, take care of you, so let me.”
He thought she’d argue? Not likely. She hummed. “Grilled cheese sandwiches would be good.”
He gestured at the dining table. “Then sit. I’ll make them.”
Brushing her teeth the next morning, Havana watched through the mirror as Tate entered the bathroom and came up behind her. His eyes followed the path of his hands as he snaked them under her long tee and shaped her bare ass. He was already washed, dressed, and ready to face the world. She hadn’t expected him to be one of those people who could enviably roll out of bed looking fresh as a daisy right after waking.
Well, he hadn’t rolled straight out of bed. First, he’d woken her with his finger on her clit and then fucked her from behind while they lay on their sides.
He’d never stayed over before, just as she’d never spent a full night at his house. But last night he’d curved his body around hers, pulled her close, and told her to sleep well before drifting off. And she’d honestly never slept better in her life. She’d felt settled. Safe. Home.
Tate met her gaze through the mirror. “Never seen a better ass than yours,” he said, giving it a brief squeeze. “Looks even hotter now that it has my brand on it.”
She sent him a mock scowl, spat out the toothpaste, and rinsed her mouth. “I’m thinking you went a little overboard with the whole branding thing.” He’d bitten her in too many places to count.
“Just making up for lost time. You wouldn’t believe how many times I almost bit you in the past.”
She’d had to fight the same urge during their fling. And although he would have welcomed it, she hadn’t branded him last night. Mostly because she didn’t trust that she wouldn’t bite or claw him hard enough to draw blood and mark him permanently—that wouldn’t be fair to him when she hadn’t given him the go-ahead to do the same. Plus, she wasn’t sure how his cat would react to being marked. Considering the many issues he had, the animal may need things to go slowly.
“Well it’s a good thing I wasn’t planning to do any sunbathing in a bikini,” she said. “I’m covered in so many bites even another shifter would raise their brows.”
Tate smiled, feeling utterly unrepentant. He liked having her all marked up. Liked that she’d look in the mirror, see those brands, and remember she was his. Liked that others would see them and understand she was taken. “Yeah, they probably would.” His little devil huffed and returned her toothbrush to the holder. “Breakfast,” he said.