Futu-i. Adres knew Macauley was not lying.
Macauley had to wait an agonizing three days for Taleb and his betas to return from his trip to the Kennedy pack in New Brunswick. He’d been there presenting the new school curriculum that all packs would be implementing. The world was evolving every day, and with humans finally recognizing species equality, Justice wanted the shifters to evolve with it.
And so far, they were. Shifters had never thrived more under any other AZ than they had with Justice. When Wick had first arrived, they’d all been expecting some kind of revolt or uprising after his brother had mated with the vampire king, but it wasn’t as difficult for their kind to accept as they’d thought. The mating had opened up an abundance of resources that they never believed they’d have. Packs had new schools, with over-stocked libraries and modern technology equipment, money to pay for federal regulations to protect their land, grant money available for packs that needed help and far more.
Macauley turned off his circular saw and yanked his brown leather apron over his head the moment he felt his baby brother’s presence on the compound. He checked the digital clock on the wall, noticing it was already after nine. It’s about damn time. He didn’t typically work so late, but with the curfew still in effect, there was little else for him to do. Macauley tossed his cut-resistant gloves onto the frame of the wheelbarrow race cart he was making for one of the pups. As if those guys weren’t spoiled enough. But to him, they were all like his nieces and nephews.
Macauley closed and locked the door and started walking towards Justice’s house but ended up jogging the rest of the way, unable to get there fast enough. Adres had avoided him the last couple of days, claiming his lord duties had him consumed, but Macauley knew what he was doing. With two prisoners on the grounds, he was sure all of the guards had their hands full. An attack on the king or his mate, including his family, might have triggered the beginning of the new war. But Ramon sure found enough time in his busy schedule to visit with his sister, Farica… nightly.
Macauley cringed. He didn’t want to think about that too hard. His point was, there was time.
Adres could give him more of his if he had the desire, but obviously he was still choosing to fight their complicated bond. Because that was what Macauley had decided to call it. His mate was neither fractured, broken, diseased, or anything else he believed he was. Though they were true mates, they were going to have to work hard for it. Nothing good ever came easy. His concern was that the prophesy was now coming to pass just as predicted, which meant he needed to bond with his warrior… and soon.
Macauley took the steps up Justice’s porch with one leap and barreled through the front door on a mission. He nodded to a few of the pack officers and Taleb’s betas who were standing in the foyer talking. His brother’s house was like a hotel lobby where people would congregate and socialize. It had a large dining room, a huge eat-in kitchen to accommodate his family, and a few wings attached that Macauley had built himself. Justice and Wick’s personal office and quarters were on the second floor, so no one ventured up there unless invited or summoned.
He didn’t need to bother Justice with his dilemma right now. His brother had enough on his plate. Adres was his mate and his responsibility. He’d take care of him the best way he knew how, and that meant keeping his secret until they figured out how to set his soul free. There had been a light inside of Adres—he couldn’t feel it, but he knew it was there.
Macauley was walking down the long hallway towards the library that doubled as Taleb’s office when he smelled the scent of garlic and fried chicken. His stomach growled as he detoured towards the kitchen. He knew just where to find his brother if Henry was cooking. He was still several feet away when he overheard his brother’s deep voice.
“I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” Henry answered softly.
“I don’t have to leave again until next week.”
Macauley turned the corner and saw his brother in a sharp, gray pinstriped suit, clutching Henry’s slim frame from behind while he absently stirred a large pot of red sauce on one of the burners. It smelled as if he’d made one of Taleb’s many favorites. Chicken parmesan. Macauley rolled his eyes. The spoiled little shit.
“So, what did you have in mind?” Henry teased, his sweet tone laced with lust. The pheromones emanating from them were overpowering the delicious scent of the food. Henry leaned into Taleb’s arms, the back of his head resting on his shoulder, his throat bared.