by Olivia Arran
“Now that I can’t wait to see. I’ve only known her pregnant.” Her eyes grew wistful, the gray stormy.
“How’s the adoption process going?”
“Slow. Too slow.”
“You’ll get there,” I said, resting my hand on her arm and squeezing. “You and Brent will make amazing parents.”
Giving me a grateful smile, she nodded—looking like she was trying to convince herself. “You and Owen will, too.”
I don’t think I quite managed to keep the shock from my face, because she burst out laughing. “Oh, hell, sorry. Me and my big mouth. You’re not quite ready for that step yet I take it?”
Uh, nope. ‘Not even crossed my mind’ was on the tip of my tongue, along with ‘not even possible since we’re not mated’, but I held it back at the last moment.
“I wonder if your eventual kids will be wolves or dragons.”
“Wait. Kids? Plural? As in more than one?” Geez, was it hot in here? Pulling my hair up and away from my neck, I wafted the air, trying to dislodge the flush of heat working its way up my chest.
Either oblivious or ignoring my discomfort with the conversation, Emma continued, “Mina was telling me that when two different types of shifters mate, it’s the most dominant of the pair that determine the species of the child.” She pursed her lips around her straw, her eyes narrowing in thought. “I wonder if that is determined at time of conception, because dominance is a fluid thing, depending on mood and environment, so it wouldn’t make sense for it to be predetermined. I mean, how could you? Otherwise, you’d be able put everyone in a line and number them, cross-species, of course, and that wouldn’t work. Because then you’d have a different hierarchy—”
“Whoa!” I held my hands up in defeat. “Turn that mighty brain of yours off for one night!”
She cringed. “Sorry, but it’s interesting.”
“Very,” I replied, giving her a wry smile. “Mina’s your source?”
“I think her and Cade are trying, and with her being a fox and Cade being a bear, she’s more than interested.”
“Well, the first guinea pig will be born soon enough.”
She snapped her fingers in the air. “Right! Julie’s baby.” Then she frowned, looking puzzled. “Though that’ll be either an ocelot or a wolf, not a guinea pig.”
I squinted at her, bursting into laughter when she winked. “A guinea pig shifter, now that’s something I’d like to see,” I said, draining my drink.
Moonshine buzzed through my veins, lighting them up with mischief as I grabbed her hand, dragging her out onto the dance floor where our other friends had already claimed a space. One after another, the speakers pumped out hit records from years gone by, whipping the crowd up into a writhing mass of arms and legs. Letting myself go, I danced and laughed, the music now too loud for conversation and just perfect for getting my funk on—as Granny Foxglove shouted in my ear as she boogie-woogied on by. Nita passed me another drink, which I downed, pressing the cool glass to the back of my neck in an attempt to cool myself down.
“I need a time out, guys,” I shouted, making the universal sign with my hands.
“That’s a damn shame,” a low voice growled in my ear, strong arms wrapping around me from behind.
My elbow was moving seconds before my brain kicked in, and I quickly yanked it back before it made contact … with my husband. Who was now plastered against me from shoulder to hip, his muscular body grinding against mine as he grazed my neck with his teeth, his next words sliding through me and hitting me straight between the legs, “Hmmm … you taste delicious.” He licked his lips as I tilted my head back, meeting his vivid green eyes. They sparked with heat as he pushed against me, big hands cradling my hips.
“What are you doing here?” I eventually managed to ask, rediscovering the ability to talk. “And no bullshit, Mr. Robson, I’m on to you.” Yep, that would be the moonshine talking; it was definitely responsible for my ass pressing back against him and the way my hands were reaching back and hooking into his jean pockets just to make sure he didn’t get any funny ideas, like trying to escape.
“Well, Mrs. Robson, let’s see.” He growled under his breath, tickling my neck. “How about, I missed you.”
I’d been prepared for a brush off answer, but the simple, raw honesty in his voice threatened to devastate me. I turned in his arms, pressing close enough to squeeze out all the air between us. Tracing his face with my eyes, I wondered if I looked hard enough, if I’d be able to see inside his head and figure out what the hell he was thinking. Because that kind of honesty wasn’t the kind I’d agreed to. It was dangerous. “I’ve only been gone a couple of hours.”
He lowered his head, stealing a kiss. “Still missed you.”
Glancing around me, I clocked the rest of the enforcers, plus my friends’ mates. “You do know this is classed as stalking,” I pointed out, wondering what the hell had happened to poker night.
He chuckled, not looking the least bit bothered by my accusation. “Not when you’ve already married me.” His hands left my waist, where they’d been trailing a path of fire underneath the hem of my top. “But, if you really want me to, I’ll leave you alone for a while.” Cupping my face, he seized my mouth in a demanding kiss, his tongue slipping into my mouth and scorching me with his taste.
He released me and I sucked in some air, a wave of dizziness washing over me. Okay, that was hot.
“I’ll be over there, watching.” He pointed at a corner of the room, where pool tables were set up and the music was quieter. “And, by the way, Bree?”
“Huh?” That kiss had scrambled my brain.
“You look so fucking hot tonight.”
Moonshine. It had to be the moonshine that had my brain on the fritz.
He licked his lips, giving me his best wolfish smirk. “And I can’t wait to get you home and show you exactly how hard it is to stay away from you right now.” The sexy fucker slid his hand into his jean pocket, readjusting the prominent bulge, before giving me a wink.
“Definitely stalker,” I muttered when he strolled away, showcasing his fine ass in a pair of tight, dark wash jeans. Several heads turned to watch him pass, checking him out. And who could blame them, his shirt clung like a second skin and his face was … ah, gah! Yep, sexy stalker, that’s what he was.
The fuzziness in my brain multiplied, sending warm shoots of fluff and air into my belly.
And, damn, I was a lucky girl.
Because he wanted to be mine.
Chapter Seventeen
Owen
I was hard as rock as I leaned back against the wall, nursing a beer as if it held the answers to all of my problems. Namely, the woman I hadn’t taken my eyes off of, who was eye fucking me from across the room as she swayed her hips and laughed with her friends.
I wanted to make her mine in every way possible, but she blocked me at every turn. You haven’t exactly asked her again. Yeah, because it hadn’t even been a week since we’d gotten married. No way in hell had she changed her mind so fast, not when she’d been so adamant in the first place.
Which left me with … waiting? Ah, shit. I wasn’t good at waiting, but I’d do it.
Or I could try and figure out what it was that was holding her back, so I could show her—
“So, this is what it’s like being mated.” Dylan slid in next to me, bumping my shoulder and tilting his drink at the dance floor. “Fuck, it makes me wonder if I actually ever want to meet my mate.” He drained his bottle, letting it swing between his fingers, his expression dark and brooding and so out of character for my friend, I actually managed to drag my eyes away from Bree for a moment.
“Everything okay, man?”
He grunted, tilting his head back and surveying the crowd through hooded eyes. “The sex is good, right?” His voice was a little slurred, but nothing more than a decent buzz, the scent of moonshine clinging to him like cheap cologne.
If anyone else would have asked me that, they’d be laid out o
n the floor right now. But this was Dylan. He got away with shit like this because the fucker never knew when to shut up. He wouldn’t know the line he wasn’t meant to cross if it smacked him in the face, let alone tripped him up.
But I still wasn’t giving him an answer.
He pointed at me, a sly smile twisting his mouth. “Shit. I’m right.” He went back to staring at the room. “I’m so fucking right. Fate is leading you by the dicks, the lot of you.”
“And?” I didn’t see his problem.
His jaw clenched. “I make my own decisions.” The way he spat the words out hinted at a story, but it wasn’t my place to dig. As his alpha, it was my job to make sure he stayed on the straight and narrow, didn’t lose his head and go off the rails. I wasn’t his fucking babysitter.
“We all do,” I settled for saying. Just like I’d made the decision to give my mate time to come around to the idea of forever. Even if the thought made me seriously consider hitting that bottle of moonshine myself.
He pushed away from the wall, setting his empty bottle on a shelf. “Well, my decision is I’m out of here.” Whipping his hands out of his pockets, he reached out and caught a human woman who had stumbled into him—on purpose, if the predatory gleam in her eyes was anything to go by—flashing her a wide grin that was more the man I knew while setting her back on her feet with a gentle push. “Steady there, darling.”
“Hello, handsome.” She trailed a finger down his shirt, leaning into him.
Catching her hand before it could reach his belt, he shook his head. “I think you’ve got me mixed up with someone else. He’s the handsome fucker.”
I watched as confusion filtered through her alcohol driven fuzz, her lips pouting and eyebrows bunching together.
Dylan, ever the comedian, winked at her. “I’ll point you in his direction, if you like? Tell him Dylan sent you.”
She blinked, a little slow on the uptake, and I bit back a chuckle when he spun her around, whispered something in her ear, and sent her in the opposite direction.
Taking a swig of my beer, I shook my head. “What the fuck, man?”
The grin had faded, but at least he wasn’t acting like the world was going to end anymore. “I don’t like saying no.”
My eyebrows reached for my hairline.
“What? I’m a nice guy. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.”
I couldn’t help but ask, though I already had a good idea. “Who did you send her to?”
The grin was back, full on and devious. “Dante.”
Okay. That wasn’t the name I’d been expecting. I jerked away from the wall, scanning the room. “Fucker,” I snarled when I spied him hiding in the shadows, his gaze set on Bree. “What’s he doing here?” I was already winding my way around the room, my prey fixed in my sights. Moving up to his side, I yanked on my control, managing to restrain myself at the last minute from pinning him up against the wall. “Dragon.”
A flash of purple aimed my way, then, “Wolf.” His lips thinned with displeasure.
I didn’t give a fuck if he wasn’t throwing me a party anytime soon. “I didn’t think this place was your scene.” I waved a hand at the vast number of humans that filled the bar, set on enjoying their vacation to the max.
His lip curled, but amusement flashed in his eyes. “I’ve been to worse places.” He surveyed the crowd, lifting his shoulder in a half shrug. “Though this is a unique kind of torture, I must admit.”
I coughed, hiding my burst of laughter behind my fist. “Not keen on humans?”
“Only when I can keep my eye on them.”
This time I didn’t muffle my laughter. “No plans on sharing the family jewels with them, then?”
A sound of disgust came from him and I swear he held back a shudder.
I sighed, initial flood of rage having fled the building and leaned my back against the wall. It was tempting to knock my head against it, if only to clear it. “Why are you here, Dante?”
His hand cradled a drink, bringing it to his lips. He looked to be weighing his next words carefully, which was so unlike the arrogant bastard, I braced myself instinctively. “She’s not as hidden as she thinks.”
“Bree?” I confirmed, keeping my voice steady despite the jackhammer going off inside my chest. He knew something.
His gaze never left the dance floor, his voice low. “Lucky.”
Fuck. If I’d been in wolf form, my hackles would have been up and fur bristling as I shoved away from the wall, crowding him. I growled. “Are you threatening her?”
He sipped his drink, as if having a pissed wolf shifter getting up in his face didn’t bother him in the slightest. “Did you ask her to explain?”
I gritted my teeth. “No. Not yet.”
“You should.” I didn’t miss the undercurrent of warning threaded through his words. “For some strange reason she’s chosen you.” He sounded … perplexed, and if I hadn’t been in the mood to punch him in the face I might have been amused.
“What the fuck, is your pride wounded?”
He tutted. Yep, actually tutted at me, like I was a small child not old enough to understand. “Pride … ego … honor—it’s all the same thing really. She made her choice.”
Satisfaction rushed me. Yep, she’d made her choice all right. “Because you wanted her to choose you?” And didn’t that just make me want to beat on my chest with my bare hands?
“I wanted her to make the sensible choice.” His voice clearly said that wasn’t me.
Fuck this shit. Dancing around it obviously wasn’t getting me anywhere with this guy. Sucking in air in a hope that it might give me a measure of calm, I ground my next words out as slowly and as clearly as I could manage, “Do you want Bree as your mate?”
He met my eyes and held them for the first time, his gaze assessing and piercing. “You’d give her up?” With those words, I knew for sure that he knew we weren’t properly mated.
I slammed him into the wall, barely keeping my hands from closing around his neck, instead using my shoulder to pin him there. “Just answer the fucking question!”
He shoved back and we swayed, caught in a wrestling match that wouldn’t declare a victor unless one of us was willing to start talking with their fists. “Answer mine first.”
Blood boiling, my mind trapped in visions of Dante swooping in and luring Bree away had me fighting the urge to involuntarily shift for the first time since adolescence. “No,” I snarled, putting us nose to nose, letting him see the conviction burning in my eyes. “I will never give her up because she is everything to me. She’s not a pawn or a trophy or a goddamn game. She is everything to me and whatever she chooses is fine by me, because it’s her fucking choice, not mine. Not yours. Not anybody’s but hers.”
“And you’d be content with the scraps that she throws you?” He wasn’t sneering, he seemed … intrigued.
My chest was heaving as my wolf pushed at my skin, the burn of the truth that had just clawed its way out of me leaving my heart a complete mess, twisting and pounding inside my chest, but my head was completely clear. “I would do anything for her. Anything.”
He shoved me away, managing to gain an inch. “Good.”
I shook my head, the adrenaline easing its way out of me at the look of satisfaction on his face. “Good?”
His hand clamped onto my shoulder and I almost knocked it off, but then he shoved me around and my knees threatened to buckle under the weight of the aquamarine eyes staring back at me.
“I don’t want her as my mate. I never have.” Dante’s voice in my ear didn’t manage to break the spell that had fallen over us as I tried to figure out exactly how much she had heard. “I’m a friend of the family. Think of me as a distant uncle, but definitely not related.”
Her eyes shot to Dante, widening as she took a step back, stumbling into someone and jerking away. “What kind of friend?” she asked.
“Very distant, but enough that I wanted to look out for you.” He moved up beside me. “You
have your father’s eyes.”
Confusion drew her eyebrows together, erasing the panic that had previously tightened her features. “No, I don’t.”
“You also have your mother’s sharp tongue, which I would have preferred not to experience again, but that’s life.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, observing her with a wry expression that I’d never seen before on his face. Almost … paternal?
Bree stared at him, as if he was mental. “I’m nothing like my parents.”
He sighed, scrubbing at his jaw. “I’d have preferred to have done this somewhere a little more … private, but you refuse to come visit me.”
“Because you’re an arrogant ass,” she shot back.
Yeah, she was definitely the perfect woman for me. A spitfire even when the ground beneath her was falling apart.
Dante chuckled. “Yes, you’re so much like your mother.”
She scowled, planting her hands on her hips. “Quit babbling and start talking, old man.”
The smile he gave her was almost apologetic. “No, you’re right. You’re nothing like your adoptive parents.”
Chapter Eighteen
Briana
The room around me evaporated on an explosion of air in my eardrums, Dante’s words pulling the pin and detonating the charge. Now, all I could hear was buzzing, frantic flies swarming around my head and pecking at my ears. I frowned. No, that’d be birds. Way to get my analogies mixed up, but I was sure I could be forgiven in this instance, since Dante had just— “What the hell did you just say?”
Dante took a step back before recovering, smoothing his shirt with his hand and giving me a crooked smirk. “I would have thought you’d be happy with the news.”
My attention swung to the man next to him, my husband. “Did you know?” A strange pang of loss washed over me as I searched his handsome face for the truth.
“Fuck no,” he exhaled. “I don’t even have a clue what you’re talking about right now.” Owen reached for me, tugging me into his side and wrapping an arm around my shoulders, as if I was precious. Or fragile. “But I think you deserve some answers.”
