“Mateo.” Emotion welled up in my chest. Sex had never been like this for me. Ever. It had been a release, a simple pleasure, a good time. But it never had been soul-stirring and heart-bonding. I could hardly look at him with the overwhelming emotion pouring through me on a euphoric rush. It was too much.

He kept himself inside me, those familiar dark eyes roving my cheeks, chin, forehead, mouth, then back to my eyes. “Are you okay?”

I laughed, refusing to cry, because what could I say. No! I’m not okay. I was an emotional wreck, but I was also home. Right where I belonged. How could it be both? So I told him the truth, hopeful he felt half what I felt. “I’m more fantastic than I’ve ever been.”

Slowly, he dipped his head, sweeping his lips gently, sliding his tongue along the seam, coaxing me to open, asking to come inside. It was so insane, considering what we just did, but it was also so tender and sweet. So Mateo.

“You are fantastic,” he said. “So incredible it scrambled my brain. I can’t think straight.”

I pressed my index finger into the cleft in his chin. “Only your brain was affected?”

His loopy smile dimmed, sobered. His expression shifted to sad hopefulness. A strange combination, but one I understood. “And my heart, Evie.”

Combing my fingers in his hair, I pulled him down, licking my tongue alongside his. His cock twitched inside me, already stirring to hardness again. I hummed approval and broke the kiss. “So soon?”

He shrugged, smiling against my lips. “I’m a werewolf.”

As if that explained everything. Then I recalled the mention of Lycans and their insatiability. Somehow, I was sure I’d be perfectly fine with that.

“Maybe a snack,” he said between light kisses. “You’re going to need your strength for tonight.”

“We’re not done then?” I asked playfully.

“Not even close.” He grinned, staring at my lips, before brushing his own against mine. “Are you hungry?”

“Mmhmm. I didn’t have time to eat at the party.”

“What do you want?”

We spoke through constant kissing, both of us unable to part just yet.

Then I grinned. “I want your meat pie.”

Mateo fell to the side, laughing into the pillow. I joined him, both of us pretty giddy and high off post-amazing-sex endorphins. He turned his face toward me, our heads on the same pillow.

“You like my meat pie, do you?”

“I love your meat pie.”

Just like I love you.

I couldn’t say it yet, even if it was true. Mateo, and Alpha, wanted me intensely. That was certain, but whether that translated into what I already felt, I wasn’t sure. It was scary and wonderful and beautiful to think he might feel the same way. I just wasn’t ready to take that risk that he might not.

Mateo must’ve sensed my change in mood. He trailed his fingers from my temple down along my hairline and tucked a loose strand behind my ear.

“I’ll give you whatever you want.” His thumb skimmed over the slope of my cheekbone. “Anything you want of mine.” And then his pad swept farther down to caress my kiss-swollen lips. “Just tell me and it’s yours.”

Our gazes locked, vulnerability sliding between us like a secret. I wanted his heart, his love. But I was too afraid to ask for it, even though I was almost positive that’s what he was offering.

“Let’s start with your award-winning meat pie,” I whispered, giving him a little smile.

His expression softened. I imagined it mirrored my own—one of hope and adoration and desire. “That’s a good place to start.”

Chapter 31

~MATEO~

You’re welcome.

I basked in the awesome feeling of watching a rosy-cheeked, smiley Evie finish off the breakfast I made for her.

Like I said, you’re welcome.

I cooked her breakfast.

She ain’t smiling like that because of a damn omelet.

I found some strange satisfaction in taking care of her. I loved feeding her.

Well, I love eating her. So we’re even.

Picking up her empty plate, I walked over and set it in the sink while she drank down her orange juice.

Gotta keep our girl healthy. Full of energy. Round ten starts tonight.

No argument here.

Thank Christ. It’s a fucking miracle.

Of course, we hadn’t gone nine rounds last night, but it was close. We were both pretty damn tired with so little sleep, but somehow that didn’t dampen our spirits this morning.

“I never did thank you for last night.”

“You’re quite welcome.” I couldn’t help grinning.

She laughed, a pretty blush flushing her cheeks. “Well, not that, though that deserves more than a little thank you.”

Damn straight, baby.

“What I meant was back at the party. I mean, coming and being all”—she lifted her shoulders on a heavy exhale—“amazing.”

“I told you. I’ll always be there for you.”

She swallowed hard, standing from the table. “Well, I appreciate it. Derek was being a dick as always.”

“Yeah. I heard him.”

She scrunched up her brow. “You did?”

I ground my teeth together. “Werewolf hearing.” And if that prick ever put his hands on her again, I was going to break his arm. It had taken more than a little restraint not to flatten him at the party.

Remember our Top Five Kill List? Derek the Douchebag is at number one.

Evie gave me a tight nod before her somber expression slid into a smile. “That reminds me. I have something to show you.”

She ran over to the coffee table and picked up her little black purse from last night. Pulling out her cell phone, she eyed me and bit her lip, then kept flipping through some things on her phone.

Holding a deep breath in her chest before nervously blowing it out, she shifted from foot to foot. “Okay. It’s not a really big deal, but it’s a start.”

Then she flipped her phone around that was open to the Webtoon’s app she’d shown me for digital comics a lot of indies used.

Staring at the screen for a split second, I snatched the phone from her and clicked on the icon of a red-headed figure I recognized. Sure enough, it popped open to Witches in the City, Episode One. There were three episodes published, the first with 724 likes, the others trailing close behind it.

“Evie! You did it!”

She giggled and covered her mouth, a girlish sound I’d never heard her make before. A Christmas morning giddy kind of sound.

I flipped through the screens quickly, not reading, just soaking in the artistry of her illustrations, the creative layout and color schemes she chose. Amazing, all of it.

“Damn, girl.” Reaching over, I pulled her into my arms and squeezed her tight. “I’m so proud of you.” I pressed a kiss to her crown, inhaling a deep whiff of the delicious smell of her. I was so far gone.

Wrapping her arms around my waist, she nuzzled her mouth against my neck. “I just posted last week, the first three episodes. I haven’t done much promotion or anything yet. And I’m working on getting them in print issues. I really want them in print for the comic book readers like myself. Bam even said he’d be glad to sell them consignment from his shop.”

“That’s so incredible.” I rocked her in my arms. “Seriously.”

She pulled back to look up at me. “I owe this to you.”

“No, you don’t. You always had this in you. I just gave you a nudge.”

“It was such a necessary nudge though, Mateo.”

The smile she gave me was worth dying for. She had no idea what she did to me. And after last night, I knew I couldn’t hold my feelings in for long.

“Come on. Walk me out?”

“Of course.”

She was back in her dress and heels, but with my hoodie over it, which hit her at the hem of the dress. She looked ridiculous, but she didn’t care. Neither did I. I only cared that she was warm. The weather had dropped overnight, bringing in a brisk cold front.

You kidding me? She looks delicious. She should only wear our clothes from here on out.

Taking her hand, we went down the stairs. I flipped on the lights in the workshop, the few windows not helping with the overcast sky.

“Oh, my God.” Evie pulled away from me and walked toward my workshop table and the life-sized sculpture standing in front of it. “Mateo,” she whispered.

I met her next to my latest work, watching her expression of shock and wonder and happy surprise. “It’s me,” she finally said.

“It is.” Inspired entirely by her, I hated to give it away now that it held a piece of my heart along the molded steel.

“But…” She shook her head, reaching out and touching the wavy hair cascading down the sculpture’s face that was a mirror of her own in galvanized steel. “Your client didn’t commission a statue of me.”

“Actually, Sandra left me a lot of creative license.”

“She looks like a witch. Kind of.”

“Well, considering my muse.” I shrugged a shoulder. She did indeed look like a witch in her billowy dress, hooded cloak, and the look in her eyes as if she held a secret. As if she held magic.

She was quiet for a minute before asking, “What were Sandra’s requirements for the commission exactly?” After trailing a finger down the outstretched arm of the figure, she then circled the sculpture.

“Exactly?”

She swiveled her attention to me. I knew it by heart, so I told her, realizing I was admitting a lot, possibly risking a lot. But hell, I was bursting with it.

“She asked for a beautiful woman in a flowing gown and a hooded cloak. A woman who embodied hope, strength, and”—I swallowed hard—“love.”

Evie’s eyes misted and blinked quickly. I eased closer, slipping my hands up to cup her face, thumbs brushing those lovely slanted cheekbones.

“So you can see,” I whispered, walking her backward till she bumped my worktable, “there was nothing else for me to do. No one else who would fit the bill.”