CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“At least let me carry a few.”

Isaiah slid her a frown and kept walking. “I’ve got it.”

Typical dominant male shifter, she thought, catching up to him.If you offered them a helping hand with anything, it seemed to offend them. “You don’t have to look at me like I’m attempting to unman you.”

“Quin, I’m fine. The bags aren’t that heavy.”

Her hormones went all gooey whenever he abbreviated her name that way. No one else called her that. She liked it. Liked that only he did it. “But there are plenty of them.”

“That there are,” he acknowledged, casting her a quick look. “I thought you only needed to buy ‘a few things.’ There’s more than a few here.”

She pulled a face at what she could admit was in fact an understatement. “I may have downplayed it a little. Or just gotten a bit carried away while shopping. Or both.” It wasn’t her fault the storefront windows had such amazing Christmassy displays that they sucked her right in. “At least we’re heading to the last shop now. Then we can go.”

“You said that about the previous two stores we went to.”

“You weren’t supposed to remember that.”

He snorted. “Hard to forget when each promise had filled me with hope both times.”

Quinley chuckled. “What a big baby you are.” She gave a polite “No, thank you” smile to a worker who tried offering her a free beauty cream sample.

Much as she teased Isaiah, she could totally understand his eagerness to leave. He preferred to shop online, and they’d been at the mall for hours. Her cat was just as fed up.

The building was all glass, tiled floors, bright lighting, and fake foliage. It was also decked out for the holidays. Fairy lights flashed and danced. Tinsel curled around plants. Inflatable Santa’s and snowmen were perched here and there.

This mall was different from the one she’d ventured to with Blair, Elle, and Bree. There were plenty of stores, kiosks, coffee shops, and juice bars, but this mall was somewhat smaller and not so much about big brands.

It was also closer to their neighborhood and less busy. Well, usually less busy. It was currently more hectic than it would typically be due to it being the holidays.

An endless amount of shoppers carted around bags of all sizes that bore various logos. A jumble of voices, laughs, and cell phone chimes echoed throughout, barely overridden by the Christmas music. Lots of squeaking and clicking came from the soles of wet shoes that left damp trails in their wake on the tiled floor.

Though she was enjoying herself, she’d be glad to leave. Her feet were sore, every shop was jampacked, and the lengths of the cues at counters were ridiculous. She kind of felt sorry for the workers—they had to be both shattered and frazzled.

Of course, she hadn’t told Isaiah that her feet hurt. Overprotective as he was, he’d either carry her around or pressure her to leave. She wanted to grab just one little last gift for her nephew Ren first.

She hadn’t been able to find this particular toy anywhere—no mall, no market stall, no public street store, not even online. There was only one toy shop here that they hadn’t yet searched. She had her metaphorical fingers crossed that the place had the item in stock.

A teenager preoccupied with scrolling through his cell almost bumped into her. Isaiah’s arm shot out wicked fast, protectively acting as a blockade.

The teen’s head whipped up, and his eyes went wide at the sight of Isaiah.

“Move, kid,” her mate ordered.

Oh, the kid moved. Quickly.

She smiled. It had to be said that the dude came in handy. And there was something about him acting as a living shield that made her all tingly.

“Just to let you know,” she began as he dropped his arm, “I’m thinking of always taking you shopping with me from now on.”

He cast her a sideways glance as they resumed walking. “Why?”

“Because I don’t have to weave my way through the throngs of shoppers when I’m with you.” They naturally parted for him. Maybe it was his large frame, or maybe it was that they sensed the predator in him. Either way, it worked out nicely for her because it meant they also moved out of her way.

His lips curled. “It has to be hard to be sma—”

“Height-challenged.”

His smile grew. “Yeah. That.”

Ass. “You’re not going to protest to being my shopping buddy?”

“No,” he replied, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the sound of water pattering the base of a fountain. “Unless it’s a day when I can’t get time off work. I usually can, but sometimes it’s necessary that I stay local to the pride or that I accompany Tate somewhere.”

Whereas, since he was effectively her bodyguard at the moment, he could focus on her. “Do you miss not working as much?” She knew he prized his position.

“If you’d asked me in advance if I would, I’d have said yes.”

“But you don’t?”

“No. I like that we’ve been able to spend the extra time together. It’s made it easier for us to get to know each other. And it would have frustrated me to have to trust someone else to watch over you lately. I wouldn’t have trusted them to be as vigilant with your safety as I am.”

“In all honesty, I wouldn’t have either.” She turned her head at a loud, “Ho, ho, ho.” It came from a guy dressed as Santa who was striding around with a bucket, collecting money for a charity.

Returning her attention to Isaiah, she saw that he was staring at her, his expression soft and warm. “What?” she asked.

He shrugged. “It’s just nice to know that you trust me to keep you safe.”

She wasn’t sure when exactly that trust had solidified in her gut, but it was there. This man would never purposely harm or neglect her—Quinley believed that with everything in her. Her cat agreed, the animal’s faith in him an unshakable thing. “I thought you already knew that.”

“I was pretty sure you did, but I wasn’t certain until now. It’s nice to have it confirmed.” A wicked little glint lit his eyes. “You could confirm something else for me.”

She felt her brows pull together. “What?”

“I noticed a store bag in our closet earlier. It had fallen off a shelf, and its logo was of a lingerie brand. I didn’t peek inside it, but I would like to know if I’m right in guessing there are some kind of Christmas-themed underwear in there.”

It took effort to keep her expression unreadable. “Why would you guess that?”

“I heard bells jingling when I lifted the bag and placed it on a shelf.”

Busted. “You’ll just have to wait and see,” she said with a haughty sniff—a mistake, because it drew the scents of meat, pizza, spicy foods, and fresh bread that were wafting from the nearby foot court right into her lungs. “Those smells are making me hungry.”

His brow furrowed. “We ate dinner half an hour ago.”

“You always seem to think that will make a difference to my appetite. I don’t understand.”

Sighing, Isaiah faced forward again. He squinted and then tipped his chin at something up ahead. “Is that the store you want to go to?”

Tracking his gaze, she smiled. “That’s the one.”

They made a beeline for the toy shop. Its door was wedged open, so they stepped straight inside. A woman heading in their direction did a double-take at the sight of all that was Isaiah. Very common. The attention of both genders often got snared by him.

Hell, a woman had almost tripped over her kid’s stroller earlier in an effort to get a better look at him. Quinley’s cat had hissed at her, unimpressed.

“Which way are we headed?” he asked, situating himself in front of her—again protecting her from the crowds, the sweetheart.

“East,” she replied, hooking a finger around the loop of his jeans waistband. Regardless of how crowded the store was, there was no skirting and pausing and sidestepping with Isaiah—just a smooth, purposeful walk that said people moved to let him pass.

Quinley couldn’t help but smile at the sight of a little girl trying to drag her mother to a mountain of plush bears—she was so tiny that the mom didn’t move an inch, but the kid didn’t stop pulling.

“That little girl over there reminds me of—” An oof flew out of Quinley as Isaiah abruptly stopped dead, causing her to bump her nose on his back. “Ow.”

Rubbing at her nose, she frowned. He’d frozen. Frozen from head to toe.

Skirting around him, she peered up at his face. It was hard as stone. She followed the path of his gaze to see what he was so focused on. A couple stood several feet away hemming and hawing over a padded baby playmat, and the woman was resting a hand on her slightlyswollen belly.

A painful realization crept up insidiously on Quinley, making her stomach roll and clench hard. Lucinda. It had to be Lucinda and her fiancé.

Her inner cat went ballistic, hissing and pacing. The animal was furious that the woman was close to him. Furious at having to be so near to her. Furious by the hurt that came over Quinley.

Breathing through her cat’s turmoil, Quinley concentrated on Isaiah. She curled her fingers around his bicep and tugged. “Come on, let’s go.” He didn’t protest, he let her lead him out of the store.

Examining his expression, she saw that it had lost its hardness. Now, it was blank. Utterly unreadable. “So. That was her, huh?”

He didn’t meet Quinley’s gaze as he urged her forward. “Yeah.” A curt response that invited no questions.

It hadn’t for one moment occurred to her that they’d bump into Lucinda here. Or anywhere, for that matter. “Is this where you first saw her?” Because if so, she would have appreciated the heads-up; they could have then gone somewhere else.

“No.” Again, his voice was sharp.

Arriving at a little lounge area, she halted. “Stop.”

He did, frowning, his gaze finally dropping to hers. “Why?”

She nudged him onto the carpeted lounge area and curved her arms tight around him. He went still at first, maybe in surprise. But then his arms—still loaded with bags—loosely came around her. She thought about guiding him to the sofa but, going by the tension in his frame, there’d be no getting him to sit. His instinct was to just leave.

He rubbed the side of his face against hers and placed his mouth near her ear. “I’m good.”

No, he wasn’t. And neither was she.

She could honestly have gone her whole life without ever having to know what Lucinda looked like. The human was beyond beautiful. Tall and blonde and elegant.

Quinley’s complete opposite.

And his reaction to seeing Lucinda … It was understandable. It was. Of course he’d find it majorly difficult to see her again, especially given that she was pregnant. It was one thing to know of her condition and another to have that visual of it.

And yet, it hurt Quinley that the moment had had such an impact on him. Her cat was equally wounded by it.

Little rattled Isaiah. Little caused him to freeze. And never in a public setting so damn crowded would he not protest to Quinley leading as they waltzed through a store. But he hadn’t said a word when she’d drawn him outside.

Understandable. Completely. Utterly. But it still hurt.

“Let’s go home,” he said, his lips grazing her ear.

Sighing, she pulled back. Neither of them said another word as they made their way to the nearby elevator, or as they descended to the underground parkade.

With every step they took, she pretended her chest wasn’t aching. Pretended her eyes weren’t burning. Pretended her throat wasn’t thickening.

Reaching the car, he unlocked it with the key fob. “Get in, I’ll put these bags in the trunk.”

Mutely, she did so and then clicked on her seatbelt. She heard his phone chiming as he rounded to the driver’s door. Opening it, he answered the call.

He kept his phone volume lowered enough that shifters couldn’t overhear his caller’s side of the conversation even with their enhanced hearing. But she sensed from Isaiah’s responses and queries that it was Deke regarding an enforcer-related matter. It seemed that he intended to update Isaiah on incidents he’d missed.

Isaiah paused the conversation long enough to link his phone to the car’s Bluetooth, and then he continued the call as he drove. His voice was slightly stiff, but he otherwise sounded remarkably normal.

The phone conversation didn’t end until shortly before they arrived at the cul-de-sac. She opened her mouth to speak … but didn’t really know what to say. She couldn’t relate to his pain; wouldn’t have felt the same depth of it in his shoes.

But she didn’t think it wise to just pretend it away. That wouldn’t help either of them. And she didn’t want him holding his feelings inside.

Once they’d parked the car in their driveway, he scooped the bags out of the trunk and carried them inside. As they hung their coats on the rack in the hall, she asked, “Are you okay?”

His gaze snapped to hers. “Yeah.” He looked genuine. Sounded genuine. But she wasn’t convinced. She didn’t see how he could possibly be “okay.”

Following him into the living area, she said, “I don’t want to pretend that that didn’t just happen; that we didn’t see her. Let’s not do that.”

He shrugged, setting down the bags near the armchair. “I confirmed it was her. What else is there to say?”

Maybe nothing. Or maybe he just didn’t want to speak his thoughts to Quinley, worried it would make her feel bad. He wouldn’t want to hurt her.

She appreciated his sensitivity, yes, but she didn’t like the idea that he might be ignoring his own pain. Didn’t like that he’d refuse to process it in order to dance around her feelings.“Do you need some space?”

His brows flew together. “Fuck, no.”

“I can go on a run,” she offered, “or spend some time with—”

“No.” He came right to her, his expression sober. “The one thing I’ll never need from you is space.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” she assured him.

“I would.” His gaze sank into hers, uber serious. “Really, I’m good.”

“You’re mad. You’re hiding it pretty well, but I feel it.”

“Yeah, I’m mad. Mad because you and me were having a good day, and life decided to throw a glass bottle in our faces. Now you’re upset, and I don’t like it. I know how it is to stare at the person who would have claimed your mate if circumstances had been different. It isn’t fun.”

“No, it’s not. But seeing her had to have been harder for you than it was for me.”

He gave a slow shake of the head. “Remember Zaire came here but you were more bothered about how I was feeling? It’s the same situation right here.”

“You went so still.”

“Shock.”

“Right.”

Isaiah tensed. The softly spoken word hadn’t been sarcastic, but it was laced with resignation. As if she’d decided to give up on trying to reach him. Like she thought he’d simply clammed up.

In hindsight, he could have handled the moment better at the mall. He’d just been so caught up in his battle with his cat that he’d been careless with her. Shock had contributed to that, yes, but it wasn’t an excuse. She’d been rocked by it all, too. Rocked and upset and dismayed.

Yet, she hadn’t pulled away from him at the mall. She’d hugged him. Comforted him. Put him first. Even now, she was still more concerned about his feelings than her own.

That was his Quinley. That was who she was.

He hadn’t thought she’d assume that he’d be so impacted by the sight of Lucinda and her fiancé together. He had figured that, given how she reacted whenever Zaire was near him, she’d understand that Isaiah’s only thought would be for Quinley.

He’d figured wrong.

And now he could almost see her taking an emotional step back, putting distance between them. He placed a finger beneath her jaw to tip up her head, catching her gaze with his own. “Don’t retreat from me.”

“I’m not. I just find it hard to believe that you’re fine. And I’m cautious of saying or doing the wrong thing here. If I saw Nazra pregnant with Zaire’s baby, I wouldn’t care. But you—”

“It didn’t hurt me to see Lucinda. It just took me off-guard.”

She gave him a tired, dubious look. “You more or less checked out. I had to guide you out of the store.”

“It wasn’t that I checked out. I was focused on trying to calm down my cat so he didn’t shift right there.”

Her brow pinched. “He wanted to savage the fiancé?” It was more of an assumption than a question.

Isaiah frowned. “What? No. He wanted to get to you.”

Her head flinched back in surprise. “Me?”

“He was pissed that she was near you, just as your cat is pissed whenever Zaire is in my general vicinity. It’s normal. Our animals each perceive them to be potential threats to the forming of an imprint bond. Then he sensedyou were upset; sensed that your cat was mad. He did not like that, did not like that he couldn’t get to either of you to offer comfort, and so then he got more pissed.”

She didn’t appear totally convinced. “You didn’t say a word to me as we walked to the car, or as we were driving home. You dragged out your phone conversation with Deke—don’t deny it.”

“I did, yeah. I was still concentrating on calming down my cat. Hearing about mundane enforcer shit was distracting him.”

“He was really that mad?”

“Yes.” Isaiah caught the top of her ponytail in his fist. “The first time I saw her and her fiancé together, it was a hot stab to the fucking chest. But it was different this time.”

“How?”

“The only person on my mind was you.” He skimmed his fist down her ponytail, allowing it to slip through his grasp. “I wasn’t aching to follow her. I wasn’t feeling the need to pound her fiancé’s face into the ground. I wasn’t hurting to know she’s pregnant with his child. Because I have you.”

Quinley looked away. “You don’t have to say that.”

“Hey.” He curled one arm around her waist and pulled her close, curving his body around her. “It’s true,” he said as he swept his free hand up her back. “If you can look at Zaire and not be hurt, why can’t the same apply to me with Lucinda?”

“It’s not that I don’t think it can. It’s just that I’ve had a long time to get used to the situation with Zaire. You haven’t had that same length of time to make your peace with your situation with her, and she didn’t reject you the way he did me.”

“Doesn’t matter. Know why?” He palmed her nape tight. “Because I let her go. And somewhere between claiming you and hearing that you got shot, my cat did the same. You’re ours. Not her. I have no regrets, Quinley.”

She leaned into him, hugging him tight again. This time, though, it seemed that she just wanted to hide her expression from him. Maybe didn’t fully believe him. Or was scared to fully believe him.

“I wouldn’t say any of this if I didn’t mean it, Quin. I wouldn’t fill your head with lies, not even to make you feel better.” He stroked his fingers over her nape, doing a little foray over a bite mark there. “Ask yourself honestly, taking into account everything you know of me, do you truly think I would do that?”

She tipped her head up to look at him, pensive. “No,” she finally answered.

“Then there you go.”

“It’s just … we can convince ourselves of something to make it easier to deal with.”

“So you think I could be lying to myself? No, baby.” Releasing her nape, he brushed his palm along the side of her face and into her hair, pinning back the stray strands that were too short for her ponytail. “I’m too self-aware for that.”

“She’s your other half.”

“Doesn’t feel like it. She’s not the person who makes me laugh, who brought my cat out from under his cloud, who lets me take care of her because she knows I need it, who gives so much of herself to me while expecting nothing, who eats all my snacks and leaves IOU notes that never fail to make me smile.”

He slid his hand down to palm the side of her neck. “You fill that space inside me. Not her. I chose you. And if she was suddenly single and I was given the choice between you and her, I’d still choose you.” He breezed his thumb up the column of her throat. “You’re all I want, Quinley. You hear me?”

She swallowed hard, the doubt gone from her expression. “I hear you. But I need you to be quiet now or I’ll cry.”

“You’re already crying.”

“No, I’m not.”

His lips twitched. “My mistake.”

Her heart aching in a good way now, Quinley stayed still as he gently thumbed away her tears. He touched his lips to her forehead, pressing a feather-light kiss there. He pressed another to the outer corner of one eye … then to the outer corner of her other eye … then to her nose … then to the curve of her mouth.

His lips brushed over hers in a butterfly kiss. Again. And again. And again, adding a little more pressure each time.

His tongue sank into her mouth—just a shallow dip, flicking the tip of her own tongue. The kiss was light and easy and sensual. It went on and on, only pausing as he peeled off their clothes. Then he gently lowered her on the rug in front of the fireplace and took her right there.

It wasn’t slow and hard like the other night. It was soft and lazy. He touched her with an aching tenderness, a hint of reverence there. And possession. So much possession, reminding her who’d claimed her. When she came, he pounded into her like a savage until he finally exploded inside her.

Afterward, he collapsed over her in that way he always did. His face buried in her neck, he licked and blew over the brand there.

Softly dragging her fingertips over his back, doodling patterns, she became aware of something. Something that had made her cat sprawl to the floor with a satisfied purr.

Quinley tensed about the exact same time as he did. Ever so slowly, he lifted his head, his gaze captivating in its intensity. She licked her lips. “It isn’t my imagination, is it?”

He shook his head. “No. No, it’s not. We’re wearing each other’s scent.”

Which meant imprinting had officially begun. A thought that made her chest go tight and pulled a smile from her very soul. It just … there were no words to really describe what this meant to her; what it did to her insides.

His eyes flashed with satisfaction, but then they darkened. Heated. Fairly glowed with possession as his cock hardened inside her.

“Again?” she asked.

He rumbled a growl. “Again.”

This time, he fucked her hard. Held nothing back. Took everything, gave the same in return. And he bit right over her claiming brand as they both came.