Kettah felt a bit self-conscious shopping as he watched her, and he most definitely watched her. She could feel it all over her body. For the next forty-five minutes she picked out clothes mindful of the prices. Although her father was wealthy, spent enough money on possessions that some people didn’t even make in a year’s time, and that was all she had known her entire life, Kettah did not need exorbitant things to make her happy. She liked simple things, was modest in what she wore, when given the choice, and didn’t like the fact Maverick was paying for these overpriced garments. She’d pay him back, somehow, because when she broke apart and was on her own—she hoped—she didn’t want to be in anyone’s debt, no matter how small it might seem.
Once she had all the items: a few pairs of jeans, some plain t-shirts, a pack of panties, a couple of bras, and a pair of pajamas, Maverick eyed the items she put on the counter, and looked over at her with a raised eyebrow.
“What?”
He shook his head and reached into his back pocket to get out his wallet. “Nothing. I just thought women got things a bit more … elaborate than some jeans and tees.” He wasn’t looking at her as he counted out the money and slapped it on the counter, but the corner of his mouth was kicked up.
“Well, I figure since I don’t know how long I’m going to be here, or the fact I am trying to keep a low profile, I should probably get some things that don’t attract a lot of attention, and are more versatile.” A hard mask covered his face, and right under his day old stubble covered cheek she saw a muscle tick beneath it.
He turned toward her, and she took a step back as the heat that came from him slammed right into her. He was pissed, but not at her, that much was clear. “You know who I am, what I am, and the things I have done. Trust takes time, I know that, but you are also my mate, and as a shifter yourself you know what the means.” He leaned in an inch closer, but Kettah held her stance. “Tell me what it means, Kettah.” He said it so low that even if they hadn’t been alone she would have been the only one to hear him regardless. She had to hold her breath or she would get a concentrated rush of the intoxicating scent that came from him. If she breathed she would have taken that dark scent into her lungs, and grown drunk from it.
Oh, she knew what it meant.
“Don’t think. Just say the words.” He didn’t say it like an order, but like a little brush along her body that eased her into doing his bidding.
Dipping her eyes to his mouth, she took in his strong, square jaw, , and felt the pull again from being his mate. This time it was she who leaned forward an inch, until they were so close she felt his breath tease the seam of her lips. “It means that we are connected, that you feel the need to protect me, and that I will never be safer than I am with you.” Her voice sounded low and slightly husky.
“Yeah, but it means so much more, too, Kettah.” Maverick lowered his lids slightly and inhaled deeply. He could smell her arousal, and tell her emotions by her body language alone. This time his gaze was on her lips when he said, “It also means that as much as I want to say when this is all said and done I’ll be able to let you just walk away, I won’t be able to let you go.”
Kettah should have run in the other direction, but she wouldn’t, because what she wanted to do with this shifter could be very dangerous, but it sounded deliciously wicked, too, and the desire to be with him far outweighed the risk.
Chapter Eight
Two days later
“Shit.” Kettah rubbed the part of her arm that the hot water splashed on. “Why did you offer to cook him dinner?” Fortunately, talking to herself wouldn’t end up in Maverick thinking she was crazy. He was downstairs in his office finishing some last minute reports and then closing shop for the evening. It had been two days since he had taken her to the boutique, and forty-eight hours since she decided that she wanted to see where this … whatever this was would end up going. Maverick was the least social person she had met, and that was saying a hell of a lot, but that was okay because she enjoyed the quiet. She hadn’t had much of that back home, not with chaos constantly surrounding her.
She was safe, she knew that, but she still slept with her shoes on, kept her clothes right beside her and had her purse on top of them. Everything was ready to go if she had to get the fuck out of there.
Kettah had made him go to the store, because if she was staying with him indefinitely he needed some actual food in his place. Beer, water, half a carton of eggs, and a loaf of bread that was starting to grow something black and green weren’t going to cut it. So here she was, making him dinner and hoping that this was the right decision. She didn’t want to tread on his feet, step over any lines, or make this situation even more awkward, but they had to eat, right? What made her idea to do this particularly smart was the fact she didn’t know how to cook. Apparently they had something in common in that respect. Living the life she did meant there were people to clean up after her, do her laundry, and cook every one of her meals. Hell, there had even people tasked specifically with the job of making sweets for her and Konstantine when they were younger.