by May Sage
She dropped the snarl and sighed, muttering, “Weirdo.”
He couldn’t deny that.
“So, you’re really into sweet things, aren’t you?”
While she had some savory rolls and breads on one side, the star of the show was her impressive display of cupcakes, mini pies, and muffins.
She crossed her arms and mumbled defensively, “It sells. What are you doing here?”
“The smell led me here,” he said truthfully.
Only it was her scent, rather than cupcakes, that had forced his steps.
“Well, what can I tempt you with?”
He waggled an eyebrow, because if he wasn’t mistaken, that qualified as flirting.
“What’s on the menu?” Rygan shot back, his eyes fixed on hers.
The woman was going to be the death of him; he knew it for a fact when she took another cupcake and plunged her finger in the frosting. She lifted her finger to his mouth, saying, “Open.”
Rygan obeyed. He didn’t have any other choice.
Then, she brought the same finger to her own mouth and licked it clean, before sucking it for good measure.
Fucking. Hell.
“What do you say; a little too spicy for you?”
He was this close to jumping on the other side of the counter and throwing her on his shoulder, but something told him that little show wasn’t seduction as much as a display of dominance. Glaring hadn’t worked, so she showed she was on top by manipulating him, instead.
“You don’t want to play that game with me, pretty girl,” he warned her, edging behind the counter. “It’ll end with your ass reddened by my palm.”
“Aww,” she shot back, with a condescending and adorable moue. “I didn’t know you were delusional. There’s a really good shrink in town, if you want the contact details.”
A bell rang and the door of her bakery opened; he didn’t have to turn to hear the three sets of heavy human footsteps, or smell the overly flowery perfumes. Aisling’s gaze lost its amusement, and she regained a professional demeanor.
Rygan got the message; he wasn’t going to mess things up for her at work. Reluctantly, he took a step back.
“I’ll take a dozen cupcakes.”
“Which flavors?” she asked, shooting him a fucking infuriating forced, professional smile.
“Two of each.”
“Coming right up.”
She carefully placed the cakes in a beige box and wrapped it with a blue ribbon before handing it to him.
“How much do I owe you?”
“It’s on Daunte’s tab,” she replied with a shrug.
Somehow that annoyed him.
“Not necessary. I can pay for my own.”
She glared but replied, “eighteen dollars.”
“They’re two dollars each.”
She was giving him a discount? Did anything make sense about this woman?
“Twenty-four dollars, then!”
She didn’t stamp her foot, but she visibly wanted to. Rygan smiled, ridiculously glad to be able to get under her skin.
He popped some money on the counter, leaving his card on top of it.
“Call me when you’re done here. I actually came on business.”
Dammit, Ian, watch where you’re going,” Rye growled at the poor schmuck who was carrying a box so large he couldn’t physically see a thing.
Rygan knew he was being a dick, but he couldn’t help it. He was in a foul mood, no point denying it. Preparing to leave Aisling’s home felt…wrong. His tiger was roaring in protest, not letting him catch a break.
“You know, I’d say your tiger can make the run between her house and ours in fifteen minutes, max. Chin up.”
Rye turned to his Beta, eyes narrowed. From the very start, he’d seen the man as a rival of sorts, because it was clear that he and Aisling were friendly, but Daunte wasn’t jealous at all; if anything, the man just seemed amused by the situation, smirking whenever he caught the heated looks Rye and Ace exchanged.
“Chill. I really don’t want into her pants. We’re literally like family. I’d give you the whole don’t hurt her speech, but, honestly, I’m more worried about her cutting your balls off and feeding them to you if you ever do something you shouldn’t.”
Rye winced, admitting that she probably would.
“So you just see her like a little sister, then?”
Daunte shook his head.
“Nope. I’m the baby here. You know Ace’s twenty-eight, right?”
That would be a no. Actually, hell to the no. She looked twenty-one, tops.
“It’s the dimples. They make her look adorable.”
“And she’d cut your balls off for calling her that.”
“Which is why I’m not saying it to her face.”
Rye laughed; he was glad to have been mistaken when he’d believed that his Beta was involved with his…
His what?
Suddenly, he realized something. If Ace wasn’t Daunte’s conquest…
“She’s from your old pride,” Rye guessed, and Daunte immediately closed up.
Rygan smirked; it had only lasted an instant but the startled look the Beta had sent him made him think he’d nailed that one.
“Come on, Daunte. I don’t mean her any harm.”
The beta nodded. “Sure. But it’s her history - she’s the one who wants to keep it private. How do you think she’ll feel if you sniff around until you get your answers? Let me give you one clue about Ace - she’s wounded. She has a chip on her shoulder, and she never got over it. And how do you get a wounded animal’s trust?”
He didn’t answer the rhetorical question. They both knew: you let it come to you.
Rye nodded slowly.
“By the way, there may or may not be a few bets going about you two. I have five hundred bucks in the pot, so don’t mess up.”
Chapter 14
Discovery
Okay, so maybe he’d hated leaving Ace’s place, but now that they’d made it to their new home, he wasn’t exactly complaining. The place rocked. There was more space than they were used to, the latest technology, under-flooring heating, and the security was completely over the top, which meant that he saw it as adequate. It was perfect; or it would be, when he could drag Ace’s ass there.
“You want to see the master bedroom,” Daunte told him, pointing up the stairs.
Rye shifted, letting his animal have its fun; it wanted to know if it could easily navigate through their new home. The wide staircases weren’t a problem. He got to the first floor and quickly investigated the space, nodding at the nine large, sun-filled, and elegant rooms. Upstairs, there were five larger, more luxurious ones, and at last he arrived at the master bedroom. He would have purred if tigers could.
Holy shit, the room took up the entire space; there was a claw-foot tub on one end of the room, and just… space. His tiger dropped to the floor and rolled, stretching its paws in the air. Yeah, that would do just fine.
The bed on the other side of the room could have fit his entire pride; his tiger sniffed at it, disinterested. He wouldn’t care about it until Aisling was tucked under the covers.
Rye shook his head, wondering if there was something seriously wrong with him. He hadn’t decided anything regarding her, damn it. His stupid tiger was pushing its emotions, and needs, to the surface, and making Rye think the Aisling issue was settled, when it really, really wasn’t.
Shifting back, he went to the windows, and smiled when he saw that they slid open. There was a tree at eye level; it wasn’t exactly near, but he thought he could make the leap. He’d find out soon.
Some might have found it suicidal, but being a shifter thankfully came with an accelerated healing rate; if he broke his leg, it would take a day to heal, at most. As they had Ola, it could be fixed up in less than an hour.
* * *
Rye turned, hearing steps approaching; Tracy stood at his door, holding his phone up.
“There’s a missed call. Unknown num
ber. I figured, with everything going on, you might want to know sooner rather than later.”
He hurried to her, but the young Enforcer hid it behind her back, smirking.
“Just look at you, Rye! I didn’t even know you could smile.”
Dammit; she was right - there he was, smiling. Again.
“You think it’s her, don’t you?”
He played dumb, lifting one eyebrow, which only served to make Tracy roll her eyes.
“Aisling. Badass, mysterious, sexy loner extraordinaire.”
“Give me my phone, Tracy.”
He used to be good at sounding pissed off.
“Nope. Not yet. I have to say something, because boys are dumb and you probably won’t work it out for a decade or so. You’ve changed - a lot. We’re in a completely fucked-up situation, but you’re happy when she’s around, Rye. I don’t think we’ve ever seen you this…positive. So, some of us - not naming and shaming, but some of us - think that she may very well be your mate.”
“It’s crossed my mind. But it may just be that she has a fucking amazing ass.”
“Maybe. I don’t know, let’s try something, okay?”
“Not okay,” he growled, but Tracy had a tendency to take orders as suggestions unless he pulled rank, which he practically never did.
“Just tell me out loud. Say, Aisling isn’t my mate. That shouldn’t be hard, right?”
Rygan opened his mouth to say just that in order to get the annoying girl off his back, but his tiger roared before a word had passed his lips, refusing to let him lie.
Mine. Ours.
Holy fucking shit.
He blinked, taken aback, utterly confused.
“That’s what I thought.”
Tracy was still smirking, indifferent to the fact that his world had just spun off its axis, collapsed, and been rebuilt in a split second. He could still try to deny it, but it wasn’t going to convince anyone, least of all him.
Aisling - Aisling No Fucking Name - was his fated mate.
“Give me my phone, Tracy.”
His tone was pleading now. She heard it and finally relinquished the device.
Rye dialed back the number which had just called his, feeling like someone had punched his gut when her voice answered after the fourth ring.
“Hey.”
That was it, just hey. But it was his mate he was talking to.
Her voice sounded different over the phone, softer maybe. Might just have been because she wasn’t glaring with that expression that made him think she was considering whether she wanted to talk to him or kick him in the nuts.
“Hey back.”
His voice somehow didn’t break.
Rye wasn’t good at the small talk thing, so he jumped right into it without prelude. “We have news about the Vergas Pack. You won’t like it.”
He hadn’t thought he could find anything about the situation even remotely entertaining, but he’d been wrong. When she was pissed, Ace was pretty inventive with her use of profanity. Fucking shitty cocksucking hell was his personal favorite.
Sassy. Passionate. Protective. Crazy. His.
“They need to go down,” she said in a growl.
“Agreed. I’ll contact my father, my brother, and basically everyone I can think of. My family and I aren’t on the best of terms, so I don’t know how that will go, though.”
“I’ve already made a few calls,” Ace told him, making him smile. She really was in this with the rest of them.
Of course she was.
Rye might have let her leave it at that, before his world had changed, but not now. Now, he wanted in. He needed her to lower her defenses and open up to him.
“Ace, I know you’re used to doing your own thing, planning stuff out yourself - but I need to know what you have on this. Talk to me, sweetheart.”
She was silent on the other end of the phone for a while; but then, she talked.
“I don’t have much to say right now. I got in touch with a dozen friends; they’ll come down whenever they can. They’re all loners, for the record. But I trust them, and they are dangerous motherfuckers.” She marked a pause for a few seconds. “None of them are felines. Will that be a problem?”
“No,” he was adamant. “We’d appreciate help from anyone.”
They weren’t exactly at liberty to be picky. Besides, the ideologies of the backward pack tracking them had made one fact hit home: it didn’t matter what breed they were, what status they had. Hybrids, submissives, dominants. Who cared? They were all individuals. He loved the shit out of their little Lola Bear, and she apparently was half wolf.
The silence stretched out again; not exactly uncomfortable, but it was probably time to say goodbye and hang up. Finding it impossible to do so, he asked, “How was your day?”
If he sounded awkward, that was because he had no fucking clue what he was doing; small talk started like that, right?
“Uneventful. Having the house to myself feels weird - but the animals came back, though, so I’m not alone.”
“You’re welcome here anytime, Ace. You don’t have to feel lonely.”
“There’s a difference between lonely and alone, Rye.”
“Nevertheless, we’d love to have you around.”
She was uncomfortable, he could tell - that was good news. If she hadn’t wanted to be anywhere near them, he was pretty sure she would just have said so. The woman wasn’t known for mincing her words.
“So, tell me,” he said, still reluctant to hang up, “What makes Aisling tick?”
“Why do you ask? You don’t need to know in order to get into my pants, if that’s what it’s about.”
Yeah…no one said it was supposed to be easy. Short of blurting out, you’re my mate, damn it! he didn’t know what to say.
He couldn’t say it, not now. There was a good chance that the stubborn woman would laugh in his face; he needed to give her time to sense it herself. Nothing in the way she behaved made him think she might suspect that they were true mates.
“I want to fuck you - as you’re well aware. But I’d also like to get to know you.”
She took a few seconds to think.
“I like books.”
“What genres?”
He expected her to be into gore, horror, or maybe sci-fi.
“Romance; steamy, funny or cheesy- I’m not fussy. Shifter romance always makes me laugh.”
“What else.”
“I don’t think so, mister. We said you get one question, I get one, remember?”
Oh, yes. He recalled that evening; in graphic detail.
“So we did. Ask away.”
She did. She wanted to know his favorite color, he then asked what she liked to eat. He wasn’t sure how long they stayed on the phone, when Ian came to let him know that Jas had made it home.
“I’ve got to go, Ace. Call you tomorrow.”
Rygan took a second to breathe after hanging up. He’d just spend an hour getting to know his mate.
His fucking mate.
“What’s the matter with you?”
So, Tracy hadn’t told on him yet.
Good. It gave him some time to get his shit together.
Chapter 15
Club
She’d never understood why so many shifters loved clubs. The music was too loud, the air too clouded with perfume, sweat, and pheromones. She bore it when she wanted to find someone to fuck, but that couldn’t be any further from her mind today. Her cat hissed at males trying to rub themselves against her, refusing to even look at them, because they weren’t Rygan Wayland.
But the girls had asked, and then pouted when she’d said no. What had convinced her was the fact that the world was a dangerous place when Vivicia Crawley, Faith Howell, and Rain Philips were bored and horny.
So there she was, in the middle of the dance floor, dancing with the wolf, the raven, and the witch who’d been the first to answer her call. They lived down in California, just a few hours away, so Ace had expected them
to arrive before everyone else. She just hadn’t thought that they’d drop everything they were working on and rush to her aid immediately.
Although she should have expected just that. Ace didn’t form friendships easily, but, when she did, it was with people who were loyal to a fault. She would have jumped into a car, or a plane, if any of them had asked for her help - it wasn’t surprising that they’d done it for her.
She’d briefed them on the situation, and they’d expressed their feelings differently, in manners that reflected their personalities. Vivicia had shifted and gone out to hunt something down, Faith went to her laptop and checked out the closest gun shop in the area, while Rain had started smiling because she didn’t often have the leisure of using more than a sliver of her powers. This time, she was pretty sure no one would begrudge her for killing everything in her path.
When the exotic beauty with long, golden limbs came back, a rabbit in hand, blood all over her naked skin, she announced, “We’re going out tonight. We’ll meet your pride in the morning.”
Vivicia often took charge. She wasn’t the most dominant of them, but Faith generally didn’t care, and Rain ignored what she didn’t want to do. Out of the four of them, Ace was the only who went against Vivicia - normally, the others took her side, but, in this instance, they all agreed that they needed to wind down before it all started. So here they were, at the club.
“Try touching my ass again and you won’t have a finger left,” she growled at the idiot who wasn’t taking a hint.
“Come on, sweetheart, chill.”
Why didn’t they listen? Ace grabbed the idiot by the throat and threw him at the nearest wall. In another club, that might have been noticed, but they were at Trance, the most popular sup club in Portland. There was a fight breaking out every other hour, on a quiet night.
“I’ll go get some air,” she shouted in Vivicia’s ear, before making her way through the sea of bodies, to get to the smoker’s area behind the club.
She’d never been a club bunny, but she hadn’t hated them before, either; now, she really, really did. Or rather, she hated feeling all those males touching her.
