Possession (The Mate Games 3)

The spray of water grew louder as I crossed over the threshold, leaving little doubt where my mate was hiding. I took in the four-poster bed, roaring fireplace, and the mantle filled with fat pillar candles, but mostly ignored them as I followed the sound of the shower to Sunday.

“Bloody hell, Sunday,” I murmured the moment I saw her curled into a ball as she sat under the spray of water, rocking back and forth. “Why didn’t you call me?”

She rested her cheek on her knee, her eyes bloodshot as she looked up at me, not even a little surprised to find me in her bathroom. “What was I supposed to say?”

“That you needed me, dove. That’s more than enough.”

“I need you,” she whispered, her voice broken.

“As you wish,” I whispered back, stepping under the water, fighting a shiver at the cold as I scooped her into my arms.

“You’re supposed to take off your clothes when you get into the shower, Thorne. Didn’t your vampire dad teach you anything? Oh, shit... ” Kingston’s voice filled the bathroom, his teasing tone dying as I turned to face him with Sunday in my arms.

“Shit is right, you dolt. She needs us, and you’re making fucking jokes.”

“That’s what I do, asshole. It’s how I deal with stress.”

“How about you try manning the fuck up for once?”

“What do you need me to do?” he asked, surprising the hell out of me by taking my words to heart instead of fighting me.

“She’s damn near frozen. Get a towel, a robe, something to warm her.”

Without another word, he tore off his shirt. “Hand her to me.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Now’s not the time for you to be so British. Hand. Her. To. Me. I’m a wolf. Naturally warm.”

I was loath to part with her, but the dog had a point. He could warm her with his body heat far better than a cold-blooded creature like me. My human half didn’t hold a candle to his animalistic warmth.

I handed her to him, careful not to jostle her too much during the transfer. Her violent shivering had her teeth chattering dramatically as the air hit her nearly frozen skin.

“There it is, Sunshine. Just wrap yourself around me. I’ve got you. It’s okay.”

Kingston’s low murmurs were so genuine. His words were stronger evidence of his love than anything else he’d shown me. He might have been a cocky arsehole, but he truly was devoted to Sunday. Same as me.

Her expression crumpled under his tender regard. “He doesn’t remember me,” she said, pressing her face against his neck as she sobbed.

“Something happened to him. There’s no other explanation.” I wrapped a towel around her shoulders and kissed the place I’d marked her.

“How do you know?”

“Because he loves you just as fiercely as I do.”

Kingston coughed.

“Aswedo,” I corrected. “The only way I’d forget you is if someone—”

“If someone stole you from us.” Kingston finished the sentence without letting me take a breath.

“Is that even possible?”

“You’ve roomed with a Belladonna for nearly a year and can still ask that question with a straight face?”

“She’s never stolen my memories.”

“That you know of.” I offered.