The Deputy and His Enforcer (Kincaid Pack #3) - Kiki Clark Page 0,66
Marcus’s ravenous eyes. He soaked in the sight of Robson’s large, well-formed muscles and the thick black lines of a tattoo that covered his right pec and shoulder. As he ran his eyes over each gently curved line, blushing at the way his own body reacted to the sight, Robson’s frown deepened and his lashes fluttered a few times before slowly opening.
“Marcus?” Robson’s voice was rough and gravelly from sleep. He scrubbed at his eyes and the thickening stubble on his chin as he sat up a little, resting on his elbow. “What are you doing here?”
“You…” Now that he was standing in front of Robson, naked and vulnerable in a way he hadn’t been since he was a young boy trying and failing to shift for the first time, his words got caught in his throat, choking him until he thought he might suffocate.
Robson’s sleepy gaze sharpened at Marcus’s continued silence. “Listen, why don’t we both throw on some clothes, and we can go downstairs to talk about—”
“No.”
The word burst out of him so loudly and with such vehemence that Robson’s mouth shut with a clack of teeth, eyes widening. Chest heaving, Marcus took a step forward so his thighs were pressed against the foot of the bed, and even then he leaned forward a little more, wanting to be as close as he could be to his mate without invading his space or making him uncomfortable.
“No,” he said again, softer that time, almost on a sigh. He forced himself to hold Robson’s gaze as he said, “Having a real mate, one blessed by the goddess herself, isn’t something that’s guaranteed. But… yes, when I let myself imagine one day finding my mate, I assumed they’d be a shifter like me.”
Marcus forced himself to endure the flash of pain that crossed Robson’s face, tightening the skin around his dark eyes and firming his lips into a straight line. He didn’t try and interrupt though, and he didn’t look away from Marcus.
“But you are not a, a… consolation prize. Or a burden I’m being forced to carry.” When Robson sucked in a breath, Marcus couldn’t hold back any longer, placing one knee and then the other onto the mattress. He wanted to crawl forward, to bury himself in his mate’s warmth and scent and while away the day. He made himself stop next to Robson’s feet, though, even as he greedily inhaled the spike of basil in the room. “I know I’m not very good at expressing myself, but I couldn’t let you go on thinking—even for one more minute—that you aren’t more perfect for me than any mate I could have dreamed up for myself.”
“Cariño,” Robson murmured, his eyes softening.
“And if you’re not comfortable ta-taking my knot, then we don’t ever have to do that.” His embarrassment attempted to overwhelm him, but he pushed through, needing to make sure Robson knew how he felt. He was glad the room was so dark, making it less likely Robson could see how red Marcus’s face was becoming. “Our mating won’t be less amazing or fulfilling without it—because we’ve been blessed by the goddess. We found each other. And I get to spend the rest of my life showing you my world and working to make you as happy as you could ever possibly be.”
For several long moments, nothing but the sound of their heavy breathing filled the room. Marcus’s own heart was beating so hard for once he couldn’t hear Robson’s.
Robson swallowed loudly, then rasped out, “Are you sure? I don’t want you to wake up one day and realize you’ve been missing out on a real mating—”
“Our mating is real,” he snarled, his wolf infuriated at the implication that what they had was less than what other mated pairs experienced. Marcus would die for—would kill for—Robson. He would provide him with anything he ever needed and submit to Robson in any way his mate desired. Their mating would be perfect because it would be theirs.
Robson’s eyes widened a little at his outburst, but he didn’t smell like fear. He studied Marcus’s face for a moment, then extended an arm. “Come here, cariño.”
Diving forward, he scrambled to get his legs under the blankets, then pulled them up and leaned into the warm, smooth skin of his mate for the first time. He couldn’t hold back a soft whimper as he plastered himself as close as he could get, tucking his face into the fragrant crook of Robson’s neck. He wrapped an