Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

L eaving their pickup parked in a two-car parking space behind Espresso Books, Patrin lugged his duffel bag up the outside steps to the second-floor landing. He unlocked the door and found a hallway with two doors midway down, facing each other. There was a set of stairs at the end.

Patrin hesitated. Which apartment was Talitha's?

Coming up behind him, Fell pointed to the door on the right.

"Ah, Talitha did say she had the right-hand one. I wonder who lives in the other place." Patrin unlocked the door on the right side and stepped into the two-bedroom apartment. The faint fragrance of coffee and pastries drifted up from the coffee shop on the ground floor.

Not a bad place. Feminine, but not too fussy or fancy. Two overstuffed chairs bracketed a comfortable-looking, beige couch and a gleaming wood coffee table. The walls were painted the muted green of a shadowy forest, and an off-white patterned rug covered the dark wood floors. The trim work and fireplace were white. "This'll work. And be a lot better than the B the shifter-soldiers hardly made any noise when they moved.

She glanced at the wall clock. They were right on time.

"Hey, sis." Zorion walked into the kitchen. His wavy dark hair was still wet from a recent shower and was dampening his red T-shirt. He handed over the covered dessert carrier she'd gifted him last winter solstice. "One flan, as ordered."

She breathed in the heady aroma of vanilla and caramel escaping from the carrier. The creamy custard was one of her favorite desserts. "Yum. Why don't people start a meal with the dessert?"

"Good plan."

Blatantly sniffing, Ramón strolled in. "Paella? Maybe rabbit?"

"Sorry, I was out of rabbit—you should bring me some. And I had a craving for seafood." She moved past him to set a platter of Croquetas de Jamón on the dining room table.

Not a huge fan of seafood, he heaved a long-suffering sigh. "I'll fetch you some bunnies this week." Following her to the table, he grabbed one of the deep-fried rolls filled with creamy béchamel sauce and ham. "These make up for everything. You are my favorite sister."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm your only sister, gnome-brain."

"That's a lot of food. Are Talitha, Eileen, and the pups coming over?" After grabbing his own tasty croquette bite, Zorion pulled plates from the cupboard to set the table.

"No, they're still working out routines with the cubs. It'll probably be a while." Moya huffed. "I wasn't thinking and made our usual big amount."

A sound had her turning to check the hallway door that Ramón had left open. Had Talitha changed her mind?

No, the noise was her new neighbors. Patrin was bent over the finicky lock to their apartment. Fell saw her looking and nodded.

Ramón spotted them. "Hi there. It's Patrin and Fell, right? Are you—" His brows drew together. "Hold on—are you living in Talitha's place?" His tone conveyed displeasure. Undoubtedly, two males living so near Moya troubled her tradition-loving brother.

"Aye, we just moved in today." Patrin abandoned his task and stepped into the doorway with such deadly grace she blinked. Although a wolf, he moved more like a cougar.

Not as cavebound as Ramón, Zorion smiled. "Happy Moving Day." Then the slug-wit went a step too far and added, "Since you're probably not set up for cooking yet, why don't you join us for supper?"

Moya barely managed to smother a protest. By the Mother, she didn't want to be beset by Patrin's dominant aura during a family meal.

Why me?

Both males accepted. Gritting her teeth, she escaped to the kitchen.

It was only a few minutes before the food was on the table, and everyone settled down to eat. It warmed her heart to see Patrin and Fell cautiously sample obviously unfamiliar food and then dig in heartily.

"This is amazing," Patrin said, "all of it. It's somewhat like Mexican, but not as spicy—and the spices are different?"

"Our mother was born in Spain." Ramón grabbed another of the rapidly diminishing Croquetas. "When she got homesick, she fixed her favorite foods." He grinned at Moya. "Unlike our sister, who has ‘pampering time' with candles and wine when she needs comfort."

Moya backhanded him in the gut. Littermates who teased should expect to get thumped.

Sputtering a little, he cleared his throat. "Anyway, in Mom's Spanish family, everyone helped with the cooking, so she made sure the tradition continued with us. We all learned."

Fell's expression turned unreadable, which she'd learned meant he was unhappy.

Patrin shook his head. "I envy you. We were just learning to cook when the Scythe wiped out our village. Fell and I barely manage to make eggs."

Moya looked across the table at him and directed her question to Fell. "You've been free from them for a year. How can you not have learned to cook?"

When Patrin started to answer, she held up her hand and waited for Fell.

Fell's glare made her grin. Still, this was her job, right? After a moment, he said, "We stay in hotels and B the food had been magnificent. The conversation had been engaging. The Moreno brothers were intelligent and, even more important, had good characters.

Then there was Moya. Just as intelligent and honest. Obviously caring. Brave too. His memory provided how she'd stood between the aggressive wolf shifter and the cat she was protecting. Trying to stop a fight.

Right there was the problem. The female brought out every protective instinct in his body.

Fell set his empty plate on top of Patrin's before jerking his head toward the kitchen. "Go be a pushy mongrel."

What? Then Patrin remembered the discussion he and Fell had earlier, and he saw that Moya was in the kitchen alone. "By the Gods, I didn't agree to this scat," he muttered. With an annoyed grunt, he picked up the plates and stalked into the kitchen.

Bent over, Moya was filling the dishwasher. And, being a healthy male, he noticed her beautifully heart-shaped ass. One that would fit perfectly against his groin.

Fuck, now his scent was probably filled with interest.

Okay, get this over with. He dropped the plates on the counter.

At the loud noise, she jumped up and turned.

He got right into her space and took hold of her shoulder. "You should have asked for help. Why didn't you?" When she looked up at him in shock, he opened the gates to the dominance he normally kept throttled.

She gasped. Her fist hit his gut so hard he took a step back.

He blocked her next punch and gripped her wrists. "Down, little wolf. You're in control, not your reflexes."

She was panting, her eyes too wide.

"Moya, easy now." He kept his voice soft, gentle.

A shudder ran through her as she regained control. "Oh, fairy farts, I did it again."

Her wrists were so tiny in his grip. Hell, she was tiny, the top of her head in line with his mouth. And beneath the scent of fear was an enchanting female fragrance that made him want to wrap her up in his arms so he could sniff and lick her all over.

He sighed. Sometimes the animal nature was a pain in the tail. "You did. Nice punch though." This time, when she tugged at her wrists, he released her.

Her head turned. Fell still sat at the dining room table. She shot him a glare hot enough to singe fur.

Fell held up his hands. And grinned. A rare full-on grin.

"Toothless, mangy-tailed cur." Her glare turned to Patrin like a splash of scalding heat. "He put you up to this."

"He did." Patrin took a step back, imitating Fell and holding up his hands. "It's all his fault."

She snorted at the excuse used by every cub in every age of shifterhood.

"What the fuck is going on?" Ramón grabbed Patrin's shoulder and yanked him away from Moya. "Are you bothering our sister?"

The construction contractor had an exceedingly powerful grip, and Patrin concealed a wince. "I was just going along with a request."

"What request?" On Patrin's other side, Zorion stepped in front of Moya.

Despite the awkwardness, Patrin had to appreciate the protectiveness of her brothers. "Ask Moya."

Thrown to the wolves, Moya felt like punching the dominating wolf again. Harder. Much harder.

Even if her hand felt as if she'd hit a stone wall rather than his abdomen.

Gnome guts, now there would be no escaping her brothers. "Let him go, Ramón. Let's have dessert, and I'll explain."

"Dessert?" At the enthusiasm in Patrin's low baritone, she had half a mind to punish him and Fell by kicking them out without any goodies.

Only…being aggressively pushed was what she'd asked of Fell.

And apparently from Patrin. Gods, she'd never forget the sound of his deep, smooth croon as he tried to gentle her down. Her wrist still tingled from the power of his careful grip.

Worse, her nerves hadn't settled from the disconcerting mix of terror and attraction kicked off by the blast of dominance he'd given her.

"Yes, dessert." Ignoring questions, she handed out servings of the flan Zorion had made.

A few minutes later, finished with the explanation, she turned her attention to her own plate to avoid her brothers' scowls.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard of." Ramón crossed his arms over his chest. "This stops here and now. You're not going to?—"

Moya stood. Before she could dump her glass of rosé over his head, Patrin and Fell burst out laughing.

"What's so fucking funny?" Ramón demanded, his temper running hot.

"We said something similar to our sister, Darcy." Patrin stroked his short beard with a finger.

"She got pissed off," Fell added.

"Oh yeah. Putting a paw in a metal trap might've hurt less," Patrin said.

"Our sister isn't anything like"—Ramón realized Moya was standing…with a glass in her hand—"Uh…sorry, sis?"

Prudently, Zorion slid his chair away from the table.

"I did the research," Moya said coldly. "This is an accepted technique. Since the Cosantir ordered me to fix my problem, you may argue with him. If you dare."

Ramón eyed her. "André wouldn't?—"

Zorion smacked the back of his brother's head. "We're not taking on the Cosantir. I'd prefer to live a few more years if you don't mind."

"That's pretty much how I felt." Moya took a seat and saw the shifter-soldier males still grinning. "You two shut up."

When they saluted her, actually saluted , she busted out laughing.