Hunt Me! (I Crave The Chase) - Page 213

The way he had the first time—when we’d fucked in the snow in the middle of the woods outside the hunting cabin, and our mating had become official.

Since then, a lot had changed.

We’d moved in together, officially. Blair’s restaurant had finally opened. Mutt had bonded with all of my family, and I’d bonded with his. Butters and I now competed on CandyCrush. Which he was…ridiculously good at. He’d been banished from Mutt’s pack for turning me, which was fucking shitty as hell. But luckily for everyone, Silas had welcomed him into his pack with open arms, and probably an agenda. An agenda that I was pretty damn sure Butters did not mind, if the looks he shot Silas were any indication.

Theo and I spent at least an hour a week sharing stories—to Mutt’s chagrin. And Harry and I had become fast friends. He’d randomly call me, rant about something I usually didn’t understand—most of the time it was about Kaiju—and then he’d hang up.

Blair and I were better than ever. And while there was still some awkward moments, we were working through those. I think…what I’d needed was a breakthrough. And while it had been hard won, and we had bad days as well as good—at the end of the day, I’d never felt closer to my brother.

I’d thought he’d hate me. That they all would. That the second I dropped the act and told them the truth I’d no longer be appealing.

But they didn’t.

Instead, they accepted me with open arms.

When I’d shown up at Blair’s apartment covered in blood, recently turned, with Mutt in tow, I’d expected the worst. I’d wanted to see my family, to make sure they were safe—which Mutt said was normal and a wolf thing. But Blair hadn’t batted an eye, he’d just nodded, squinted at me and said, “Nice.”

Richard, however, had gagged. Very obviously.

“That’ll take some getting used to,” he muttered to himself, and then plugged his nose as he gave me an awkward, half-pat-hug—because he didn’t want to get his shirt dirty.

Apparently Collin was telepathically connected to the two of them, because five seconds later the front door had banged open and he’d launched himself at me and Mutt with lanky-armed enthusiasm.

“Is this real blood?!” he’d asked, amazed. “Holy shit. That’s like. So gross. But cool.”

Luckily we’d mostly dried off, but he was still a little tacky by the time he peeled himself off of us and walked into the kitchen in search of food. “You never have edible fucking foo—oh.” He popped his head out. “You bought Pop Tarts.”

“Of course I bought Pop Tarts.” Blair rolled his eyes.

“I. Love. Pop. Tarts,” Mutt boomed, loud and excited, his tail wagging like crazy. “They are the best! Crunchy and wrong, because they are not real food. But very good. So much sugar! Yes.”

“Yes! It’s the wrongness that makes them so good,” Collin agreed, wagging the box at him. “You want some?”

“Do I—” Mutt jerked his head back, eyes wide, like Collin had just offered him a trip to meet Santa, and not a shitty pastry.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Pop Tarts as much as the next guy. But it wasn’t like they were fucking gourmet or some shit.

“Do I want a Pop Tart?” Mutt’s tail whacked me hard enough he nearly made me stumble.

“Yeah.” Collin blinked, looking at me, then Mutt, then me again. Then he snorted. “They’re?—”

Mutt did not need convincing. He looked to me for permission and when I nodded my head he bounded across the room and slammed into the kitchen, already reaching for the box.

“Why is it every time I see you, you’ve just got out of trouble?” Blair asked like a long-suffering old man, and not like he was a year younger than me and made of just as much chaos.

“Says the dude who almost got killed three fucking times before noticing it was intentional.”

“Touché,” Blair shrugged, and then he grinned at me. “The eyes are new.”

“Yeah.” And then I was hugging him, and he felt good and solid and like pack. I rubbed my face against his shoulder and his throat, scenting him happily, before releasing him just as quickly as I’d grabbed him, and moving on to Richard.

Richard groaned, but let me, shoving me off by the end with a shake of his head. “You have no idea how much work you’ve caused me,” he huffed out, but his eyes were fond. “The Council is gonna be pissed.” He frowned down at the tacky blood smear on his leather jacket.

I shrugged apologetically. “We didn’t have much of a choice.”

“You wanna elaborate about that?”

“Right now? Nope.” I gave him one last hug, really rubbing the blood in, then abandoned them both so I could go steal the last Pop Tart before Mutt ate them all. I was fucking starving. And also maybe to brush my scent all over the walls a bit so that Blair’s place smelled right.