CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER EIGHT

“Eli! Eli!”

Hearing his pack mate call his name the next morning, Eli paused in making coffee. There was no panic or sense of urgency in Bracken’s tone, so it seemed highly unlikely that there was a problem of some kind. Why Bracken hadn’t just knocked on the door, though, Eli didn’t know.

He strode through his lodge and pulled open the door. “What is it?”

Standing near the bottom step of the porch, Bracken said, “Tell her to move.” His eyes dipped down to the mink who sat on the porch like a sentry, staring at the enforcer.

Having been on the receiving end of that disconcerting stare, Eli understood Bracken’s unease. Still, amusement trickled through him. “Just step around her.”

The male’s eyes widened. “Do I look slow to you? I’m not turning my back on a mink—that shit’s just not done.”

“Come on, Brack, she’s just an itty, bitty thing. You don’t really think she’s going to attack, did you?”

“Um, yeah.”

“You should be used to vicious creatures. You have a pallas cat for a mate.”

“Yeah, but she’s nice to me. And she doesn’t look at me with cold, empty eyes.”

Eli sighed and stepped onto the porch. “There’s nothing wrong with her eyes. Come here, gorgeous,” he called out softly to his little mink. She glanced back at him and let out a low hiss. “Yes, I know he doesn’t belong here and he’s trespassing, but he won’t stay long. Come here.” She didn’t. But she did move aside, clearing a path for the enforcer.

Eying the mink warily, Bracken slowly ascended the porch stairs and walked toward Eli. The mink matched the enforcer step for step, always watching him. Once Bracken came to a halt, she scrambled up Eli’s body and perched herself on his shoulder.

Reaching up to stroke her, Eli asked his pack mate, “What brings you here?”

“Nick sent me,” said Bracken. “He wanted you to know that Donovan checked out the number who texted ‘Don’t disappoint me,’ and he confirmed what Nick suspected—it was another burner phone.”

Eli cursed under his breath. “Has Donovan’s contact within Ignacio’s pride got back in touch with him yet?”

“Yes. He told Donovan that Ignacio is claiming he didn’t send the falcons after you. But only the cougar’s inner circle will know the truth. Donovan’s contact isn’t part of that.”

“So we have nothing to go on.”

“No.” Bracken shoulders lowered. “I’d like to say I think the danger has passed. But if it was Ignacio who set up the falcon attack, he’ll probably strike again, since the whole thing was a total failure.”

Yeah, it seemed likely. “He’ll probably also hire mercenaries again to do his dirty work.” Just then, his little mink let out a tiny squeak. As she scurried down Eli’s body, dashed off the porch, and disappeared into the bush, he blinked. “Apparently, she trusts that you won’t harm me.”

“Apparently.” But Bracken didn’t sound convinced. He glanced around, as if expecting her to suddenly jump out at him for fun. “Oh, Nick also wanted me to let you know that Donovan’s having trouble locating your mate’s brother; there’s not a whisper of the guy anywhere. But he’ll keep looking.”

“Ignacio will probably renew his efforts to find Miles. As you pointed out, the falcon’s attack on me was an epic failure. Ignacio might figure it will be easier to punish Casey through Miles—especially since he knows I’ll now be more on my guard. She doesn’t have any other important people in her life, so there’s no one else for Ignacio to target.”

“Has Miles had any combat training?”

“It’s doubtful. He lived mostly as a human. Although he spent time on Craven Pack territory and even dated a female mink, he didn’t live there at any point.”

“Then he’ll probably be easy pickings for whoever Ignacio sends after him,” muttered Bracken with a weary sigh as he again gave the area a once over. Then he spotted the soccer ball at the far side of the porch. “You played a few games with Casey?”

Eli just grunted.

The other male grinned. “She beat your ass, didn’t she?”

“Fuck, yeah, she did. If you’d seen her play, you’d get why.”

“Shaya showed me a short video she’d recorded of Casey’s last game. Your mate is hardcore …” Trailing off, Bracken frowned and tilted his head. “Is it just me, or is everything way too quiet?”

Tensing, Eli inhaled deeply. “I smell cat. Your cat.”

Bracken’s eyes widened. “Shit! They’ll savage each other!”

Both males hurried off the porch and into the surrounding woods, following the scents of their mates. There was allegedly no way to sneak up on a pallas cat, but minks were fucking ninjas. If anyone could take a pallas cat off-guard, it was a mink shifter. And while Eli did not want Madisyn hurt or dead, he also didn’t want his mate ripped apart by—

Eli and Bracken skidded to a halt near a tall oak as they almost literally stumbled upon their mates. Neither spoke. Really, Eli didn’t know what to say. Several scenarios had flicked through his mind when he realized Bracken’s mate had trespassed onto his land, but not this.

“No way,” Bracken breathed. “That’s just … I’m without words.”

Eli grunted, staring down at the two females. The pallas cat kicked a dead vole and sent it skidding along the ground to the mink, who batted it back to the cat. They did it again. And again. And again.

Bracken shook his head in disbelief. “They’re playing soccer. With a dead vole. And they’re good at it.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I can so see this becoming a ‘thing’ with them. Is it just me dreading the trouble these two could cause together?”

“No. Maybe we should keep them apart.”

“Sounds best.” Bracken picked up his cat, smiling at her snarl of annoyance. “Sorry, kitty, but it’s time to go home.” He stilled as he caught sight of the mink’s pile of dead carcasses a few feet away. He blinked hard and then looked at Eli. “I’ve decided I’m not going to comment.”

Eli gave a short nod. “Good idea.”

Nuzzling his cat, Bracken walked away, whispering to her, “No coming back here. You need to find friends who aren’t psychotic.”

Eli scowled. “Hey!”

Bracken gestured at the pile of bodies. “Hello, trophy killer.”

Eli’s lips thinned. “She’s just tidy and has a place for things.”

“Anyone who needs and reserves a special space for dead bodies is the definition of psychotic.” Bracken spared the mink a brief look and then walked off.

Whatever. Eli bent over and carefully lifted his mate. “I’m guessing the only reason you didn’t attack the cat is that you recognized a kindred spirit in those crazy eyes,” he said, walking back to the lodge. “And yes, that does disturb me.” He should have expected that the two vicious creatures would become fast friends.

Reaching the porch, he asked, “Are you going to shift back? You’ve been out here for hours.” Okay, maybe not hours, but it felt that long.

She let out a hiss and jumped out of his arms.

He sighed down at her. “Come on, Casey, we said we’d have a relaxing day together. Come back to me.”

The mink made a sound of irritation, but then bones cracked and popped as she shifted back to her human form.

Eli smiled at Casey. “There you are.”

She curled her arms around his neck. “You say that like I’ve been gone half the day. I was forty minutes tops.”

“Too long.” He kissed her softly, flicking her tongue with his. “Damn, I’ve had far too many fantasies about this mouth. It’s not fair that you won’t give my cock a kiss. It’ll give you one back.”

“Ha. I’ll bet it will.” She pulled on the tee and shorts she’d left on the porch bench before she’d shifted. “By the way, Bracken wasn’t the only one to come by. Don’t know if Zander intended to go to your lodge, but he stopped when he saw my mink. He asked me to tell you that, yes, he’ll cover your shift at the Velvet Lounge tonight. I don’t want you to neglect your duties for me, Eli.”

“I’ve covered for Zander countless times so that he can have quality time with his mate. He has no problem returning the favor. Gwen will probably go with him and then just hang at the bar with Madisyn while he works—it’s what she normally does. You should come with me next time I work a shift at the club.”

“And hang at the bar? I’d probably get bored and start a fight.”

He chuckled. “Coming to the club with me would be a good way for you to meet the Phoenix Pack females. They keep pestering me to bring you to their territory, especially since Roni sang your praises to them—my sister doesn’t like many people. But you might feel more comfortable meeting them on neutral territory.”

“You mean you’d feel better if I met them at a place where you and your pack mates were there to defend me if anything went wrong.”

Eli felt his mouth hitch up at the corner. “Busted.”

She rolled her eyes. “I won’t bother pointing out I don’t need you to be so overprotective—it’s not something you don’t already know. Why don’t you just invite the Phoenix Pack females to your territory one day while I’m here?”

“Because, in case you haven’t noticed, I like having you all to myself when you’re here.”

“Considering we never linger at the main lodge after dinner, yeah, I’ve noticed. So, you want to spend the day relaxing?”

“Yeah. I want us to have time to ourselves. No interruptions, no meals with the pack. Just us.”

“Doing what?”

Curling an arm around her, he pulled her close. “Relaxing. Fucking. Eating. Fucking. Binge-watching movies. F—”

“Fucking, yeah, I got it. So, what relaxing activity do we start with?”

Eli jerked back to avoid the fist that came swinging at his face. He didn’t move fast enough. The fist slammed into his jaw so hard his head almost snapped to the side. “Fuck, that hurt.”

Casey’s mouth twitched. “Pussy.”

He raised a brow as they circled each other. “Oh, it’s like that, is it?”

“You said you wanted to spar with me. I get that sparring means pulling my punches and keeping my claws sheathed, but I didn’t think you wanted me to go easy on you. I can if you want, though.”

Eli smiled and invited, “Keep it coming.”

She lunged. Just like when she’d fought against the fox at The Den, she moved with a blinding speed and deadly accuracy that he couldn’t help admiring. She didn’t put as much power behind her blows, keeping the spar light and fun, but Eli wasn’t gonna lie—they still hurt.

He also wasn’t going to whine like the pussy she’d accused him of being, though, so he kept the pained grunts to himself as he dodged and deflected. He also dealt his own blows. It wasn’t always easy to land them, since she moved like goddamn lightning.

When he did land a decent blow, she smiled. Didn’t grunt. Didn’t curse. Didn’t complain. She. Smiled. Crazy bitch.

Eli did what he did with every opponent—observed her style, watching for patterns. But her trainers had obviously taught her to be instinctively prepared for that, because the awkward mink didn’t have patterns. She didn’t repeat the same combinations, favor either fist, telegraph her moves, or consistently use the same defensive move against the same strike.

And when she clipped him with an uppercut that came close to dazing him, he knew his mate would clean his clock if she ever hit him full-force. Why that made him smile, he couldn’t say.

“Careful, Grandpa. You’re slow.”

He rubbed at his throbbing jaw. “Everyone’s slow compared to you. How the fuck do you move that fast? Seriously?” He dodged her fist, angled his hips, and clipped her side with a light kick. “It’s good that you don’t drive. I have a feeling you’d be a nightmare on the road.”

“It’s true that I have no patience for traffic.” Punch. “Or other drivers.” Kick. “Or traffic lights.”

Eli slammed up his arm to block her next punch and pressed a kiss to her temple before darting out of range. “Looking at you all flushed and sweaty makes me want to pin you to the ground and have my way with you.”

She smiled. “Aw, you think you could pin me to the ground? Well, ain’t you cute.”

They went at it again, exchanging blow after blow, until their breaths became labored and their pace began to slow.

Pulling a fancy move on her that she hadn’t expected, he managed to get his arms tight around her body, her back to his chest, her arms pinned to her sides. “Got you,” he said into her ear.

She pulled a fancy move of her own, and he suddenly found himself flat on his back with her straddling him. “Got you.”

Humming, Eli smoothed his hands up her thighs. “Now I like this position. Yeah, I like it a lot. Come here. I want that mouth.” She leaned over and gave it to him. He groaned as her taste sank into him. It was as addictive and potent as her scent, and it soothed and aroused both him and his wolf.

Breaking the kiss with a nip to her lip, he said, “Tell me a secret.”

She slanted her head. “A secret?”

“Yeah. I’m not talking deep, dark secrets. I just want you to share a little something with me. Something you haven’t told anyone else. Something that only you and I will then know.”

Eyes drifting to the side, she pursed her lips. “When I was a kid, I put a crushed beetle into my father’s stew.”

Eli lifted his brows, mouth curling. “Did he realize it?”

“Nope. I remember him pausing mid-chew and making this weird face, and then he just kept on chewing. Now you go.”

Gently drawing little patterns on her thighs, Eli said, “I think I was about seven when it happened. My mom was railing Nick because I’d opened a boardgame and found torn out pages of a women’s catalogue stuffed in there—pictures from the lingerie section. Nick kept saying he didn’t put them there; that Roni must have done it to get him in trouble.” Eli lifted his head and whispered, “I did it.”

Casey’s mouth quirked. “You went to your mother and acted like you’d ‘found’ those catalogue pages in the box, knowing she’d blame Nick?”

“Yep,” he said, smiling.

“Why?”

“He broke my computer console, and I didn’t feel he’d apologized well enough. He still thinks it was Roni who put the pages in the box.”

Casey shook her head in mock reprimand. “You’re mean.”

“So are you.” Eli let his gaze slowly drift over her face, hot and possessive. It amazed him that anything could be this integral to him; that just the mere sight of her could bring him pure joy.

Every layer fascinated him—the single-minded athlete, the brutal fighter, the dedicated enforcer, the fiercely loyal sister, and the soft underbelly she’d only given him peeks of. There was a distinct softness about his mate that she allowed few people to see.

“You’re staring.”

“Can’t help it. Sometimes, I look at you and can’t quite believe you’re mine. But you are,” he rumbled, smug and proud in equal measures. He tilted his head. “Who do you get your eyes from?”

“My maternal grandmother. I look more like her than I do either of my parents.”

“What were your grandparents like?”

“I’ve never met two more mismatched people in all my life. She was all quirky and fun whereas he was uber serious and full of bluster. But they adored each other, and they were absolutely solid. I mean, nothing could have shaken their relationship. I wanted that kind of connection for myself, so I suppose it’s not surprising that I was able to pick up the frequency of our mating bond so fast, but it did take me by surprise. I didn’t realize I was that open to mating.”

His brows dipped. “Why not?”

“Well, knowing there’s someone out there who was born just for you is a special thing, but it’s also pressure. Maybe it’s just me but … I don’t know, I guess I worried that I wouldn’t live up to whatever expectations my true mate had of me.”

Because she hadn’t met the expectations of her family, Eli thought. Fuck, he loathed those bastards. “Hear me when I say this, because I need you to get it; to believe it. To me, you are everything. There’s nothing about you that I’d change. Nothing about you that needs to change. I know your family did a number on you, baby, but the lack was never in you, it was in them. I’m not going to say you’re perfect—nobody is. But you’re, like, imperfectly perfect, and you’re perfect for me.”

Casey felt a smile split her lips. Melting, she was melting. “Dude—”

“Don’t even dare call me sweet.” He smoothed his hands up her thighs again. “Such perfect skin. Soft. Bitable. Flawless.”

She frowned. “Flawless? I’ve got scars here, there, and everywhere.” Some from fighting, some from soccer. She wasn’t self-conscious about them—they were just a pattern on her skin, really.

He frowned right back at her. “Scars are not flaws. They can be badges of honor. They can be marks of survival. They can be proof of a person’s craft. But never flaws. All these scars you have speak of your drive, skill, resilience, and fierceness.”

“Now you really are being sweet—don’t even deny it.”

“Woman, I don’t do sweet.” He rolled, pinning her beneath him, and began sliding down her body. “As for the things I plan on doing to you right here …” His mouth curved into a wicked smile. “No one could ever call them sweet.”