“Maybe she’ll go into heat at the end of this moon, and we’ll have a grandbaby! And Bailey found out Amelia is the older sister, so that might explain your confusion. She was saying that it’d make sense since shifter pack order typically aligns with a family’s birth order when there are human-shifter matings in the same family, though the few cases of history she found -”
“Mom, time to go. I need time with Amelia. You should know better than to come over just hours after an alpha mates.”
What she’s saying about birth order is interesting. Mildly. I really couldn’t care less the hows and the whys. The certainty I feel about Amelia is all that matters. All I know right now is my mother needs to go so I can get back to my mate.
“I figured I’d knock instead of ring and if you didn’t answer I’d just let myself in and quietly put the food away.” She shrugs.
“Now, you know better than that, too,” I reprimand.
She grins. “You’re definitely feeling better. I’m so happy, Mase. See, I knew it would all work out.”
My mother taps my cheek, beaming with happiness.
“You did, did you?” I tease, a smirk tugging at my mouth.
She smiles even brighter while shrugging. “Of course I did.”
She’s being facetious. Dad was the one who insisted it would all work out, told us both that, trying to get her to come down from the tizzy she worked herself into all last week, acting like the sky was crumbling. Though I was feeling the same, I didn’t let on I felt that way.
“I’m sure I’ll mend fences with Tyson.”
“Let’s hope that’s not too much work,” Mom muses, looking like she’s worrying about that, still.
“I’ll call you in a couple days and let you know when you can meet Amie.”
She looks at the house expectantly and then her expression changes. Amelia’s coming.
“Time to go,” I add, guiding my mother by her elbow back toward her car.
“Oh, hi,” she calls loudly over her shoulder, waving exuberantly.
Amelia is directly inside the door, waving at my mother.
Mom pulls away from me and opens the front door.
“I’m Skye. And…” She rushes inside and pulls Amelia into her arms. “I’m so glad to meet you!”
Amelia blinks in surprise, but doesn’t pull back. Instead, she pats my mother’s back gently.
“My husband Andrew is at work,” Mom goes on, “but he’ll be thrilled to meet you, as well. We’ll arrange something. A dinner soon.” She squeezes affectionately, then releases my mate repeating, “So so happy to meet you! Welcome to the family.”
When I step into the foyer, Amelia’s expression melts from surprise into a snotty look aimed at me. I wink, amused.
“Might as well get the meeting of the mom out of the way,” I quip.
The fire in my mate’s eyes has me realizing I’m about to see my little spitfire throw off some sparks. Before I can do anything to stop it, Amelia’s gaze turns to my mother. “Nice to meet you, too, ma’am. Amelia Brennan. And actually, I could use your help.” Amelia winces for extra effect.
Here we go. I fold my arms over my chest, intrigued.
“What’s wrong?” Mom asks, alarmed.
“He kidnapped me and won’t let me leave. My sister was abducted too, by someone named Tyson. And I have to warn you, my own mom will rain hellfire on this place if we’re not released immediately.”
“Hellfire?” Mom asks, eyes bouncing between me and my mate.
“I’m afraid so,” Amelia replies direly. “I’m sure you don’t want him to go to prison. Or worse, to some experimental lab so they can study him and his kind.” Amelia winces again for dramatic effect.
It works. My mother jolts in surprise, eyes slicing to me, filled with fear.
I grind my molars. This woman of mine is angling for a spanking.
She goes on, “You’d probably prefer he mated with a shapeshifter too, I’m guessing.”
“No,” I say. “You never know until you know. Who your mate’ll be, that is.”
Mom’s eyes ping pong between us with alarm.
“Amelia is a little resistant,” I explain unnecessarily, but it feels necessary that I say this for Amelia’s sake. “It’s only been a few hours since I identified her as mine. She’s told me witchcraft is responsible for me identifying her as mine and I’ve told her it doesn’t matter. It is what it is.”
“Witchcraft?” Mom asks. “You’re a witch? Because I have no problem with that. We’ll take you as you are, Amelia.”
“No,” she shakes her head. “I’m just a regular person. But a fortune teller is responsible for this.”
“You might as well go in,” I say, gesturing deeper into the house and adding, “For a minute.” I want my mother to understand this needs to be a quick visit because I need to be alone with my naughty mate. And soon.
I open my mother’s trunk, grab the large cooler and bring it in, finding them in the kitchen. Amelia is looking at my mother curiously, a hip leaned against the counter, arms folded across her chest.