Midnight Wolf (Shifters Unbound #11)(76)

“No, no.” Tamsin patted his arm. “You’re not random. You’re very special.”

Ben looked pleased. “Aw, you’re just saying that.”

“A very special goblin. Are there any lady goblins?”

The flash of pain in Ben’s eyes was hard to miss, though he hid it the next second. “No. Not anymore.”

Tamsin lost her smile. “I’m sorry.” She rested her head on Ben’s shoulder in true sympathy.

Ben shrugged, but Tamsin didn’t move. “Them’s the breaks when the Fae hate you,” he said. “By the way, you smell a little bit like one. You been hanging around a Fae?”

No rancor, but the hint of anger was there.

“Yes. Celene,” Tamsin said. “She’s half Fae. A tightrope walker, or former one anyway. She says her days balancing thirty feet above the ground are over. She’s mated to a Shifter now.”

“Okaayy,” Ben said dubiously.

“I like her,” Ciaran said. “And her daughter is cute. Brina’s teaching me how to sell jewelry. I’m good at it.”

Ben switched his gaze to Ciaran, his dark brows rising. Angus knew his hatred of the Fae ran deep, but he’d been known to make exceptions for individuals, once they’d proven themselves. Ben said nothing to Ciaran, only went back to munching chips, loading them with both kinds of salsa.

The waitress returned to take their order. Tamsin went through the long menu and chose several dishes, as did Ben. Ciaran picked out what he wanted, and Angus ordered two plain soft beef tacos with salsa. Tiger asked for a large steak.

Ben, Tamsin, and Ciaran ate food off one another’s plates, enjoying tamales, several different kinds of enchiladas that oozed cheese, carne adobada—which was meat in a rich red sauce—burritos stuffed with so much filling it burst out both ends, and carnitas—pork that had been slow cooked all day, rubbed with spices. Green chiles were everywhere, in the sauces, on the sides of the plates, chopped over Tiger’s steak. He ate them without a qualm.

“Seriously, that’s all you’re going to eat?” Tamsin asked Angus, eyeing his two modest tacos, which were slathered with cheese and chiles.

He nodded. “I think better when I’m not stuffed.”

“I don’t.” Tamsin patted her stomach. “I think better when I’m full and warm and a little bit sleepy.”

“Don’t we all,” Ben agreed.

Ciaran watched them both in fascination, then patted his belly in imitation of Tamsin. “Me too.”

“Great.” Angus pretended to scowl. “My kid is being raised by gluttons.”

“Goblins and gluttons.” Tamsin grinned. “We know what it’s like to be hungry, that’s all. We know not being hungry is the better state. When you have food—enjoy it.”

Angus remembered how shaky she’d been when he’d brought her to the house in Louisiana, how she’d admitted she hadn’t eaten in a while.

Never again, Angus vowed. Tamsin would never have to be on the road alone, wondering when she’d find her next meal. No matter what Angus had to do to put things right with Shifter Bureau or convince the Morrisseys to work her into the system as they’d done for Tiger, he’d make sure Tamsin always had a home, food, family. Even if he had to fight the world to do it.

Not content with ordering half the menu, Ben had the waitress bring a platter of sopapillas for dessert. Angus partook, liking the light, puffy pastries covered with cinnamon and honey. He licked his fingers, glancing at Tamsin and thinking what a fun dish it would be to eat with her—alone. He could accidentally drip honey on her neck and lick it clean. Drip it on other places as well, and she could do the same to him.

Tamsin caught his eye, and a slow smile spread across her face as she licked a drop of honey from the corner of her mouth. Angus’s cheeks burned, but he refused to look away.

Tamsin gave him a look filled with promise, then returned to her conversation with Ben.

The meal finally ended, the waitress happy with the generous tip Ben bestowed upon her. He might be good at slipping in and out of places unnoticed, but this restaurant would remember him.

Angus had borrowed a pickup from one of Dante’s employees to drive downtown, and they piled back in to follow Ben, who led the way on his motorcycle. He knew a place, he said, where they could talk.

The place proved to be a house halfway up the mountain, tucked at the end of an empty lane. The house was fairly new—built in the last decade, it looked like, with an ultramodern kitchen that took up half the living space.

“Belongs to a friend,” Ben said as he unlocked it with a key and tapped in an alarm code.

“I see,” Tamsin said as she looked around the spacious interior. “A lady friend?”

“Sadly, no. Guy and his wife I used to work for. When you live a thousand years, you get to know a lot of people.”

He spoke in a matter-of-fact way, but Angus saw another flicker of pain. When you lived a long time, you lost a lot of people too. Shifters didn’t live as long as Ben, but already Angus had felt the bite of loss of human friends from his childhood.

Tiger would not let them venture any farther into the house until he’d circled the outside, then walked into every room on the inside. When he finished, he took a seat at the breakfast bar and gave Angus a nod. “Clear. No people, no listening devices.”