They spoke among themselves, but every gaze in the room remained fixed on him, the attention sharpening into something acute and invasive. Heat crawled up the back of his neck, settling heavily at the base of his skull. Pressure built behind his eyes, his temples throbbed in time with his pulse, and his skin prickled as if an army of ants skittered beneath the surface.
It took effort not to flinch or curl inward against the onslaught, but he forced himself to focus on their words instead of their unspoken desires.
They talked about people he didn’t know, events he hadn’t witnessed, and shared inside jokes he didn’t understand. He didn’t begrudge them their camaraderie, and he enjoyed listening to their stories, but it underscored where he stood.
Present, but separate. An outsider.
But that was the nature of joining a new friend group with already established bonds, he told himself. It had been the same when he’d first befriended Braeden—and all the people he’d met through him.
Sammy sighed and shifted his weight, subtly trying to release the nervous energy that flooded him. Thinking about Braeden made him think about his bakery, and he still didn’t know if he’d made the right choice.
Braeden routinely managed Cherry on Top on his own, but in shifts. Typically, he oversaw morning operations, and Sammy had always been nearby if something went sideways.
Leaving the guy in charge for several days made him feel itchy.
Anything could happen. Scheduling mix-ups. Order mishaps. They could run out of ingredients. The espresso machine could break down…again. The oven could catch fire and burn the entire place to the ground.
Okay, so it probably wouldn’t be that dramatic, but therewasa lot to keep up with, which meant a lot could go wrong.
He really didn’t have an alternative, though. He didn’t know how long he would be away from Hunters Hollow, and closing his doors indefinitely wouldn’t benefit anyone. Not him, not his customers, and certainly not the people who worked for him.
“Everything okay?” Dominic asked, startling him out of his spiral.
“I think so.” Braeden had an amazing support system, and if something did happen, Sammy was only a text or phone call away. “Just tired.”
Exhausted would be a better word. Ever since that phone call with Kiev, it felt like he had been white-knuckling life. Barely sleeping. Hardly eating. Sometimes, he felt like he couldn’t even breathe properly.
“Come on.” Dominic tilted his head toward the doorway behind them. “I’ll show you to your room.”
He didn’t even try to hide his relief. “Yes, please.”
Dominic took his plate and frowned at the barely touched pizza, but he didn’t comment as he carried it over to the island.
“I’ll take it.” Chapel stepped forward, her hand outstretched. She cast a fleeting look at Sammy, then dropped her voice, adding, “There’s an update on the Georgia situation.”
Dominic nodded and mouthed something Sammy couldn’t make out, but he figured it wasn’t really any of his business anyway.
Then he turned and jerked his head toward the doorway. “Ready?”
After saying goodnight to the others, he followed his mate out of the kitchen, casting glances at him as they retraced their steps down the hallway to retrieve his bag. Neither of them spoke, but tension crackled between them, making every breath and micro movement feel charged.
Sammy didn’t feel anything beyond general attraction and a vague sense of worry aboutnotfeeling something more. But he was too damn tired to worry about it right then.
While nothing had been resolved yet, now that he had someone capable and willing to help him, maybe he could finally unclench. As for the rest?
Well, he’d figure that out later.
Chapter six
“Hey, I got that information you wanted on Sammy’s mom.” Striding into the office with a tablet clutched in his hand, Saint sank into one of the armchairs across from Dominic’s desk.
Turning away from his laptop, Dominic swiveled to face his brother. “What did you find?”
“Valerie Halloway. Witch-changeling hybrid. Born in New Orleans in 1864,” he read off. “Been married…six times.” His eyes flared, and he whistled. “Damn.”
“Six partners in a hundred and sixty years doesn’t seem that excessive.”
Saint glanced up from his tablet with an arched eyebrow. “They all died.”