Free Blood Rights [Wicked River 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) by Gabrielle Evans Page B

going out of their way to not talk about it. He and Moira had been together just shy of a year before he’d been driven out of town, and it had been a test in strength to resist claiming the golden-haired beauty.
    Moira had trusted him with her secret fairly early on in their relationship, and it hadn’t made him love or want her any less. She’d been completely against taking that last step and binding them forever, though.
    Much like lycan females, demon females were little more than human until claimed by their mates. Before being claimed, a demoness was stronger and faster than a regular man, healed faster than humans, but had no other supernatural abilities. Brock didn’t know why that was, but it had been that way for as long as he could remember.
    “Do I smell different?” Moira tucked her long legs under her as she curled into the corner of the sofa. “I think I smell different.”
    “Yeah, you do.” It wasn’t unpleasant, though. “It’s kind of like a campfire without the smoke.” He didn’t know how else to explain it, but that was pretty close.
    “Is that bad?” Moira pressed her nose to the top of her shoulder and sniffed. “I can’t smell it.”
    Brock laughed and shook his head as he moved to sit on the cushion beside her. “No, baby, it’s not bad.” Taking her hand in both of his own, he squeezed gently, coaxing her to lean against him. “It’s going to be okay.”
    “Maybe it’s because I’m old.”
    “You aren’t old.” Naturally, Moira would pick this moment to act like a total girl. “Although, I think I see a gray hair.” He plucked at her hair playfully and grunted when he caught an elbow to the ribs for his efforts.
    “I do not have gray hair! Take it back.”
    “And you’re kind of wrinkly.”
    “Brock Jacob Lancaster, you take it back!”
    “Moira Diane Gilson,” he mimicked. “Stop acting like a girl.”
    “I don’t know if you noticed this, but I happen to be a girl .”
    “Well, yeah, but you’re cool.” She wasn’t at all like most of the girls he’d met over the years. Moira cared very little about her hair, makeup, shopping, or what she ate. It was just a few of the things he adored about her.
    “Cool? Are we in junior high again? Well, gee, Brock, I guess you’re pretty awesome, too.”
    “If you two are going to start fighting again…well, can you not? That would be cool and awesome.” Koba shuffled around the end of the sofa and eased down in the recliner, sitting on the very edge of it and watching them intently. “I have questions, but there’s something I want to say first.”
    Moira’s gaze flickered to Brock briefly, but it was long enough for him to see the uncertainty in her eyes. “Okay. What do you want to say?” She might not want to hear what Koba was about to tell them, but her voice was strong and level as always. Maybe that’s why he found it so endearing during those seldom times when she let herself be vulnerable.
    “I’m sorry. I don’t care if you’re a demoness, a vampire, or a three-headed toad. You’re mine, and that’s all that matters.”
    It was a good start to the discussion, and Brock hoped it meant they wouldn’t all be sleeping in separate beds any longer. He understood that they’d blindsided Koba with the information and the man needed time to sort out his thoughts. He just didn’t understand why Koba had to sleep on the couch to do it. The bed he slept in wasn’t very big, but it had been extremely lonely for the last two nights.
    “Thank you, Koba. I’m sorry as well, about the way I handled it.” Moira pulled her hair up on top to the crown of her head and secured it in a ponytail with the band around her wrist. She looked like she was preparing for battle, and it made Brock grin. “So, what did you want to ask me?”
    Easy, Mo. He knew Koba wouldn’t hurt either of them for anything in the world. He was just confused, and rightfully so. The situation was giving Brock firsthand experience