Melt - Rique and Miranda (Complete)

18- Petulant Child

Miranda

"Ma'am," Rique greets her politely. Good, that's good. She'll like that he has such nice manners. And he's so good with his own mom. That's priceless. And... shit... I'm still magic drunk.

My magic is a petulant child. It's the magical-energy equivalent of being a hormonal, dramatic thirteen-year-old, and we all know how fun that age is. It's why witches don't mate or marry until they're twenty-five. Oops.

"Chiara DeVitoria is your mom?" the ClearHowl Beta asks me.

Mom's head turns sharply. Her body vibrates with aggravation when she realizes who else is here. Great. Mom always refused to work with ClearHowl, even when she was asked multiple times.

"Beta Teague Grim," mom remarks as coldly as if she's taken a plunge in an ice bath. "Why are you anywhere near my daughter?" Every wolf bristles at her tone, but Mom doesn't wait for the Beta to answer her. "And what is on your neck, young lady?" Her eyes, covered by her dark Gucci sunglasses, swing back to me.

Right. Act sober. "Mom, Cort, Holden," I straighten my spine, "this is Rique Guerrero. He is my mate."

"We are aware of what you think he is," Cort snaps. He snaps his fingers silently, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the tips of his middle and forefinger. I remember when he used to do that while he was on the phone. As a child, I liked to play with his fingers and feel the heat pouring from his skin. My magic pokes at me. Dragon magic is interesting. I should ask Cort if he knows any hot dragons...

I force my attention off of Cort before I do something drunkenly stupid that I'll never recover from. "Mom, he's my mate. It's done."

"Not necessarily, Miranda. There are ways around it," mom says casually. Only her shaking hands betray her emotion. Her face is as cool as a cucumber.

Rique takes a step forward. My magic starts poking him in the back and I can't stop it from misbehaving. Rique, my sexy wolf, doesn't react even though he must feel it. Poke. Poke. "Mrs. DeVitoria. I-"

"No," Cort holds a hand up, interrupting him. "We don't need reasons or excuses. We understand your position... A MateLess, powerful male wolf and I suppose our daughter just fell into your hands like so much putty."

Ass. Hole. I silently seethe. My magic smacks Rique on his naked ass. Oooh... such a fine, fine, pair of buttocks. And Nico's butt is right next door. When the magic smacks him, he jumps a little. Oops again.

Rique grumbles in his chest in response to Cort. My magic nods, agreeing. Cort was always such a stick-in-the-mud. I was locked up in the fifty-seven-million dollar penthouse most of the time. As soon as I realized that his overly-heated skin was a sign of his anger and he was angry all the time, I stopped wanting to be close to him. Cort always claimed locking me in that gilded cage was for my safety. He's not even my real father, just my stepfather. I reach out and poke Nico's left buttcheek with my forefinger. Very firm. Not as muscled as Rique. Still very nice.

With a cough, Nico reaches back and swats my hand. Luis wraps his arm around my waist, snickering softly in my ear. Rique takes a step forward, shielding the three of us.

"Ah, no, sir," Rique tosses me a look, and damn him, I feel guilty for all those times I kicked him out of my house and bed with not so much as a 'good morning.' I should make it up to him soon.

"And young man... wolf... our girl is twenty-one years old. A witch is not of legal marriageable age until she's twenty-five," Holden adds quietly.

My magic retreats under the watchful, wise dark gaze of my other stepdude. Holden was always more... aware... of my feelings than Mom or Cort. I can't afford to ignore how deeply he understands the subtle undercurrents of magical mood swings.