The Deputy and His Enforcer (Kincaid Pack #3) - Kiki Clark Page 0,47
can come to us too.”
Patrick grinned. “Thanks, Robito.”
Robson nodded once and squeezed his shoulder, then opened the door and slipped outside. He was halfway down the sidewalk when he heard Patrick call his name. Turning, he raised his brows in question.
“Even if he didn’t know what it meant right away, Marcus would have felt the pull as soon as he scented you.”
Chapter Twelve
Marcus had never considered himself a coward before, but as he sat outside Tashmica’s house at the exact same time he knew Robson was arriving at the manor for dinner with Rick and Kai, he decided he needed to reevaluate.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see him—far from it. He spent almost every waking moment thinking about and hoping he’d get to see Robson Medina. But then he’d remember that Robson didn’t feel that way about him, that he wasn’t yearning for Marcus when they were apart. It wasn’t his fault; he couldn’t help that he was human, but Marcus also couldn’t help how he felt.
He couldn’t stop his wolf from wanting to be with his mate.
And every time he remembered that Robson would never feel the way he felt, would never accept all of the things that Marcus wanted or needed from him as a mate, it was like a blow to the solar plexus.
So he was skipping dinner at the manor to try and get some answers from the one witch he knew he could trust.
Exiting the SUV, Marcus trudged up the sidewalk to Tashmica’s quaint two-story house. It was covered in ivy with at least a dozen hanging plants on the front porch. He was trying to convince himself that he wasn’t doing the wrong thing and avoiding Robson when the front door opened and the blond hunter Gabriel stepped outside.
“Evening, Enforcer Rivera.”
Gabriel had a smile on his face, but Marcus didn’t trust him—none of the Enforcers did. They couldn’t because of some magic the hunter was able to possess that allowed him to be scentless. Anyone who would cover up something so essential to themselves—especially when they wanted to live among shifters—was inherently suspicious.
It was a powerful type of magic, something that even impressed Tashmica and the rest of the coven. When Gabriel had joined the pack, Rick had told him that he would need to break the spell if he ever wanted to be truly trusted. To the surprise of Marcus and everyone else, Gabriel had shrugged and refused to do it. He’d said he wanted the protection and peace living in the Kincaid Pack territory would allow, but he would be okay not ever having their trust.
Bennett had said later that he thought that was bullshit, but so far the hunter had kept to himself mostly—except when he was pestering Jamie.
“What brings you by?” Marcus asked, eyes narrowing slightly when he spotted the small cloth bag in Gabriel’s hand. A hex bag. A mixture of ingredients spelled to perform or aid in a magical spell.
“Cup of tea and a chat. You?”
Marcus bared his teeth at the audacity of such a question. Just as he opened his mouth to respond though, Tashmica threw open her door and frowned at both of them.
“I thought I caught a whiff of testosterone out here. Gabriel, are you stirring up trouble?”
Gabriel turned his charming smile toward her. “No, ma’am. I’d never do such a thing.”
She hummed her disbelief, but a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Goodbye, Gabriel.”
He winked and turned back to Marcus, touching his forehead with two fingers in a sort of salute, then walked off toward the trees until he disappeared.
He turned back to Tash, one eyebrow raised as he walked up the porch steps.
“Don’t you give me that look,” she said, laughing and leading the way into her house, the scent of plants almost enough to cover the smell of magic in the air. “He might not be a member of the pack, but he’s still welcome to come to me for help or advice while he’s under our protection.”
“What does he need help with?” he asked, rubbing at his tingling nose. The smell of magic was even stronger near the sunroom at the back of her house. They settled around the small table, Tash pouring them each a cup of sweet-smelling tea.
“Marcus, dear, don’t make me curse you.” She winked, but he had a feeling she was partially serious. “You know better than to ask about what I do for others.”