CHRIS

by Becca Fanning

  She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  He gawked at her. “Then what’s the problem?”

  “I just know I don’t want to manage the MC.”

  “How do we help her, mate?” Mischa asked.

  “Do you know which college you want to go to? It’s not Harvard again, is it?” he demanded warily.

  “No. That’s by the wayside now.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, frowning at her in a way that told her, bizarrely enough, he was offended on her behalf.

  With a sigh, she explained, “They don’t hold those places open forever, you know.” She fiddled with her spoon as she shrugged. It wasn’t as nonchalant as she made it appear—it stung like hell her father hadn’t allowed her to go to Harvard. The culmination of years of study, and with the denial to use her reward, she realized it was all for nothing.

  “But you were the top of your year.” He clicked his fingers. “That dictorían thing.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Valedictorian, yes.”

  “And they didn’t hold the place for you?”

  “It was seven years ago, Uncle,” she told him softly, using the endearment for what it was—he wasn’t by blood, but by Clan he was more than that. He was like a second father.

  Mischa rubbed her arm. “I’m sorry, babushka,” she told her, as she’d told Ava many, many times.

  “I don’t think your father knew,” Kiko said softly. “If he had, he’d have let you go, I’m sure.”

  She grunted. “Yeah, right. Why change the habit of a lifetime? Actually letting me do something I want. And surely he had to realize that Harvard wouldn’t hold a place for me forever. It’s stupid to think they would.”

  “What do we know of human education?” Kiko retorted.

  “It’s common sense,” she snapped back, fired up enough to lose her temper a little. “Why would the nation’s most prestigious university wait for a nobody like me? Sure, I was top of my class. Everyone is at the top of their class when they make it there. It doesn’t mean anything.”

  “It meant something to us. We were there for your graduation, and that speech you gave made us all proud.”

  “I’m glad it did, but now it means nothing.” She pursed her lips as she thought of all the wasted hours of studing. Hours that had earned her a fully free ride to one of the best colleges in the world. “There’s no point in talking about this. He’ll never change his mind.” Mischa shot Kiko a look, one that had Ava shaking her head. “Don’t get into an argument over it. Not between yourselves or with my dad. He’ll just be his usual jerk self, and I don’t want you to end up being Challenged, Kiko. Jeez, that’s the last thing I want.”

  Kiko snorted. “Mars wouldn’t Challenge me.”

  “Where I’m concerned, you know he’s crazy,” came the tired reply. She got to her feet and sent Mischa a weary smile. “Thanks for the borscht, Meechee.”

  “You haven’t finished it all.”

  Ava just shrugged. “I’m not that hungry.”

  She left the kitchen, dragging her feet as she headed down the corridor, past the common room where she could hear the sound of a game of pool being played, and aimed her way for the staircase.

  Before she’d been born, a fire had decimated this part of the clubhouse. They’d patched it up, but had rebuilt a larger section. Extending the building, and almost tripling its size over the course of five years.

  Above the common room, there was now an administration center. It ran the entire length of the extension, and had over thirty people working within its confines.

  God, she hated the office.

  Thankfully, being Mars’ daughter gave her some perks. Even though her mother usually busted her balls, she had some freedom and most of her admin work she could do in her own bedroom rather than amid the crowded quarters.

  As The Nomads brand expanded, they only became busier. Sometimes, she felt like her father wasn’t letting her fly the nest simply because he needed her skills as a bookkeeper. Who better to trust than his only child?

  But then, whenever that nasty, insidious thought reared its ugly head, she realized how stupid it was to think that way.

  Bear Shifters were notorious for protecting their cubs. They were even more infamous for keeping their cubs young as long as possible.

  It was nice, she guessed. And she never questioned that her parents loved her, but sometimes she felt like she was being suffocated by their lack of emotional support or care.

  All she’d ever known was this clubhouse, and even when she was mated—when her SOB mate agreed to fucking Claim her—this would be her life too.

  She’d known Chris was her mate since after she’d hit puberty. And he’d known it too.

  She’d never forget the first horrified glance he’d shot her when the realization had hit home, and it was a look that would haunt her until the day she died.

  Horror. Terror. Revulsion.

  The triad weren’t exactly the emotions key to winning a girl’s heart. Not that she had a say in that. The Goddesses decided who was mated to whom, and Ava could only say they’d played a sick and twisted game when they’d matched her to a man in her own Clan. It was no wonder he felt like a pervert. To realize that a mate was yours when you were in your eighties and she was only fifteen was the height of cruelty.

  Still, she’d matured the way a regular human would. Just because her culture kept her young, it didn’t mean her body had.

  She’d always liked Chris. He’d always been friendly to her, kind. Always there with a joke or some candy if her daddy had said something to piss her off.

  He hadn’t creeped on her. He wasn’t like that at all. If anything, he’d been the opposite. And when she’d had her first period, and they’d realized what they were to each other, that gentle friendship had vanished overnight.

  In a way, that had hurt more than anything.

  She’d grown used to his teasing jokes and him coming over and chatting to her, commiserating over something her father was dictating. In a weird way, he’d been like talking to Kiko, except she knew that whatever she said to Kiko would find its way back to her father eventually—for her own good, of course. She snorted at the thought.

  Chris, on the other hand, had been a confidante. She knew he’d never tell her father anything she’d shared with him. Not that she’d shared anything too deep with him to begin with.

  He’d been a guy, after all. Older than her by decades, in her father’s Council none the less. Mischa had been her only real confidante in the clubhouse after she lost Chris’ friendship. At school, she’d had her own friends but no one understood real her heritage. They didn’t know what she was.

  That probably hadn’t helped, in all honesty.

  She’d been raised among peers, matured with them, and those peers had flown the nest, leaving her questioning why the fuck she couldn’t.

  Being shoved into a human school, being raised to be an adult at eighteen, and then being dragged back into her own culture had stung. She was still reeling from the lash of it.

  With a huff, she made it to the top of the stairs and the admin quarters. She braced herself for the noise—Jesus, she hated noise—and pushed into the room.

  The cacophony of sound hit her like a hammer to the head. She almost staggered from it.

  Her mother had worked in a newsroom and she loved the noise. Fed off it. It energized her where it only drained Ava.

  She cast a glance over the three dozen desks, seeing everyone was pretty much in situ, but thirty plus voices on the line or talking over their desks made for a hell of a lot of ambient sound.

  The desks were arranged in rows. No walls separated them, so everyone was overlooked. It wasn’t about micromanagement, more for everyone’s comfort. Shifters didn’t do well in confined spaces, and this way, a lot of the admin—mostly riders with talents leaning this way—could shoot the shit as they completed their work.

  Her mother wasn’t a harsh taskmaster. Well, with anyone other
than Ava. Annette let the guys run wild, so long as they hit their weekly goals and completed their targets in time.

  With Ava, she was a ball buster.

  At the foot of the room, the only desk that ran horizontally in the space was her mother. She was on the phone, but as the door opened, her gaze clashed with Ava’s and a silent summon beckoned her.

  As she’d been headed that way anyway, she complied. Otherwise, she’d have ignored her and gone straight to her desk to pick up the memos she knew would be waiting for her.

  She was their daughter, not their slave. Sometimes, they had a habit of forgetting that.

  Their need to push her to fulfil her potential made her feel more like a workhorse, and less like their daughter.

  She strode down the back wall, aware that as she swept pass the room that she garnered the staff’s attention.

  Accustomed to it, she kept her spine straight and the natural roll of her hips to a minimum. She’d been accused of being a tease more than once, which was hardly fair. The only reason she adjusted her behavior was because her father had Challenged the stupid shit who made the accusation and the guy had barely been left alive when her father decided enough was enough. The Challenge had been more of a warning to the rest of a MC than a true Challenge, and perhaps one of the many reasons why Chris hadn’t Claimed her yet.

  All because one prospect couldn’t keep his fucking mouth shut and his dick in his pants.

  Still, the guilt overwhelmed her enough to keep herself in line. Even if it wasn’t her fault. Even if she couldn’t help the fact she had ovaries and was currently unmated.

  “Yes?” she asked Annette when her mother had put the phone down.

  “Where have you been? I tried calling you earlier.”

  Ava frowned, then reached in her back pocket for her cell. When her mother’s disapproving gaze flashed to the swell of her breasts covered in a thin but entirely decent camisole, she pursed her lips to curtail the words that longed to fall—she could wear a sack and these guys would notice she had tits and a pussy. Her very decent shirt and jeans were in no way inflammatory. Hell, women wore sexier stuff to the office every day in corporate America.

  Eying her cell, she shrugged at the lack of notifications and flashed the screen at her mother. “No calls.”

  Annette frowned. “But I tried you twice.” She narrowed her eyes. “Have you been down in the garage again?”

  Fuck, she’d forgotten cell reception was shit down there.

  Annette sighed when Ava had no forthcoming response. “You know your father’s forbidden you from going down there. Why do you always have to rebel against him?”

  “I’m not rebelling, Mother. I was walking in the yard and I saw Edison and Jamie.” She shrugged. “I was talking to them.” A half-truth, one that had her mother softening a little. Annette didn’t like Edison but she did like Jamie.

  She didn’t have to know that Jamie had disappeared within a handful of minutes, leaving her alone with Edison long enough for him to come on to her.

  “Anyway, what do you need? I’m waiting on some figures I need to work with.”

  Annette frowned. “I was expecting that report on the garages last night.”

  She returned the frown. “Then bitch at Alan over in the Houston office. It’s not my fault he sent the data over too late for me to crunch last night.”

  “I’ll send him an email. It’s not like him to be tardy.”

  “Well, miracles happen.”

  “Hardly a miracle,” Annette chided. “I wonder if he’s unwell.”

  Ava huffed out an annoyed breath, then gritted out, “Is that everything?”

  “Yes. I’ll expect that report this evening.”

  “Yes, meine Führerin,” she hissed under her breath as she stormed off.

  Jesus, Alan fucked up and her mother wondered if he was unwell. But if she’d been the reason for the delay, it would have been accusations and chastising words.

  Heading for her perennially empty work space, she moved her hair over her shoulder to get it out of her face as she leaned over her desk and started sorting through the print outs Alan had sent over.

  Her father could be terribly old school when it came down to the IRS. None of these accounts were kept on a computer that hooked up to the internet. She had to work with one that was clean from tampering.

  It added to the delay on her getting the books done, but as was often the case, what her father wanted he often got.

  Samuel grumbled, “Why can’t you work in the office more, Ava?”

  Distracted, she just cocked a brow at him, knowing where this was going.

  “You’re so pretty, you’d make my day if I got to work opposite you.”

  To his left, and hers as well, Tommy and Jake chuckled. “What about us? We’d get into deep shit. It’d be hard for us to get any work done.”

  She rolled her eyes. Here was another reason why her parents were glad she liked working in her room—no matter how many dictates they put down, the guys still messed with her.

  Used to it though, and knowing these three were truly acting in jest, she just flipped them the bird. “It would be too hard for me as well. Looking at your ugly mugs would be so distracting.”

  Jake hooted, but Tommy just pouted. “I’m hurt, Ava. Real hurt.”

  “Good. Might shut you up,” she retorted as she gathered the papers together and tucked them under her arm. She shot Samuel a wink and headed out back the way she came.

  Shifters were blessed with some of the Goddesses’ most wondrous DNA, and as a result were all too handsome for their own fucking good.

  Hurting their ego was nigh impossible. They all knew what they looked like. It was why they could never really understand why she constantly turned them down.

  It didn’t matter that her turning them down was akin to saving their lives—because no way in fuck would her father let her date, never mind screw, one of his men. They just didn’t understand how she could say no.

  Rolling her eyes at their ego, she made it out of the admin block with a sigh of relief. She went in there as little as possible, mostly in an attempt to avoid her mother.

  The beauty of the clubhouse being so large was she could go days without seeing either of her parents. Usually, that was only broken when one of them came looking for her—never the opposite.

  Oh, Goddess, she knew they loved her, they just wanted too much from her. Expected too much without giving her anything she wanted in return.

  She was only one person. One child. They really should have had a handful of kids to focus all their goals on, but unfortunately for all of them, she’d been it.

  And she’d been born a chick, too.

  Talk about screwed from the get go.

  Grumbling, she hiked down the hallway to the other end before going down a set of stairs that led to the bedrooms. There were two floors. One for the mated couples, like her parents and Kiko and Mischa, and the top floor where all the cubs had their own rooms.

  It meant most of the kids were close; especially the ones born near each other. Like she had been with Jayden and Kon, until they’d turned prospect and had forgotten all about her. Sons, after all, were allowed freedom. Daughters, not so much.

  With a sigh, she let herself into her bedroom and locked the door behind her.

  This was her haven. Her only solace.

  It was large, the largest of the kids’ rooms if she was being honest—another perk of being the Prez’s only kid. One wall housed her queen sized bed, and opposite, there was a big screen TV. To the right of her bed, she had a walk in closet, and to the left, a connecting bath.

  Underneath the TV, she had a workstation. It was overlarge, and currently had three computers up and running.

  The space wasn’t functional. Not really. She’d collected bits and pieces over the years, bought swathes of fabric that she’d draped from the ceiling, and had even gone so far as to hobby craft her room into what looked like the interior of a Moroccan sty
le tent.

  Of course, the humming computers and TV spoiled that, but she was willing to put up with falling out of character for her dose of soaps on a seventy inch screen.

  Aiming for her desk, she set out the sheets in a way her brain would find easier to process.

  She had a form of autism; something that aligned itself to math. Most of her calculations she did without aid, and one of the teachers at school had said she was like a human calculator.

  It wasn’t severe enough to affect her life, but it did play a part in the way she worked. It was why she couldn’t stand being in the office block. The reason she needed order and precision at her workstation.

  If it did affect the way she lived her life, then she didn’t recognize how. But then, she was so used to outside factors interfering with her choices that she probably wouldn’t recognize it anyway.

  The thought was gloomy, but then, the morning had been too.

  It was with relief that she dove into the figures Alan had sent over. Though this type of work bored her, it was also a solace.

  Numbers made sense.

  They could be controlled. They didn’t act out of line, and weren’t emotional.

  She needed that.

  Desperately.

  Chapter 2

  “She’s been bitching at Mischa again?” Mars scraped a hand over his jaw as he contemplated the club’s VP. “Tell her I’m sorry.”

  Kiko shook his head as he rocked back in his seat. “Nah, she hasn’t been bitching. That’s the thing. She looked...” He frowned, then dropped his head and went quiet.

  Chris’ ears always pricked up when it came down to talking about his mate. Just because Chris avoided her, physically, didn’t mean he wanted to be kept out of the loop on her wellbeing.

  It wasn’t like him to butt in on conversations where it concerned Ava. He usually kept out of them. If Mars found out he was mated to her, then Christ knew he’d be tossed out on his ass, Council member or not.

  His position in the MC was important to him, but not as important as being close to Ava. It was worth keeping their relationship a secret until she was old enough to be Claimed, for that alone.