CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The one thing that Isaiah hadn’t expected to find when he returned home was the sight of a black mamba looped tight around a bearcat as they rolled around his living room, biting each other and crashing into furniture.

The noise level was horrendous. So much growling and hissing and yowling and objects hitting the floor with a thud.

It wasn’t remotely uncommon for Aspen and Bailey’s animals to get into a tussle, or for those tussles to go so far. But normally, Havana would order them to stop. Tonight, however, she sat on his sofa munching on chips while watching them dispassionately.

He knew why, though. Because it was distracting Quinley. She was so engrossed in the brawl—not to mention preoccupied with picking up fallen objects and setting furnishings to rights—that she wasn’t anxiously awaiting his return. Hell, she hadn’t even noticed him yet.

The bullet graze on her temple was healed, and she’d cleaned the area so there was no blood. But it didn’t unravel the knots inside him, because he could still see the image of her wound in his mind’s eye.

So close. She’d come so close to having a bullet in her brain. Had Tommaso’s shot been more accurate, she’d be gone now. Isaiah would have lost her; lost this person who’d found a way to live in his blood and filled his every empty spot. So no, those knots in his gut weren’t going anywhere.

His cat’s insides were roiling and tightening. Mauling Tommaso to death had given the animal an outlet for his rage, but it hadn’t made him feel any better—let alone calmer.

As if she sensed his presence, Quinley’s attention snapped to Isaiah. Her gaze jerkily roamed over him, as if searching for injuries, as she approached. “I smell blood. It’s not yours,” she added with some relief.

“It belongs to Tommaso Vercetti.”

Havana let out a low whistle.

“That’s who shot at me?” asked Quinley.

“Yes.” Isaiah rested a hand high on her upper arm. “He acted alone; only had a getaway driver with him. Both of them are dead now, and their vehicle is on fire.” One of the enforcers had dumped it in an isolated spot far from here before setting it alight.

Havana went to speak, but then her phone rang, and she scrambled to answer it.

Isaiah turned back to his mate. “You’re good?” he asked, lightly palming the side of her head and breezing his thumb over her now healed graze.

“Helena came.” Quinley fisted his long-sleeved tee. “You’re not hurt?”

He shook his head. “I wasn’t part of the struggle to capture Tommaso. Other enforcers nabbed him before I got there. He was the one who shot your cat.”

“Bastard,” she tossed out.

Havana stood upright, pocketing her phone, and then clapped twice. “Right, Frick and Frack, time to go.”

Like that, the two brawling animals went still.

“Now,” pressed Havana.

When the animals hurried over to their prospective piles of clothes, Isaiah again turned to Quinley. “I noticed the front door took some bullets. Not the window, though. Either they guessed our security is so tight it’d be bulletproof or they somehow learned of it.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” said Quinley.

“Why does your snake hate my bearcat so much?” Aspen demanded of Bailey, both females now almost fully dressed—they only needed to slip on their shoes.

“There’s no hate,” objected the mamba. “Just love. The purest, purest love.”

“I have more puncture wounds than a goddamn pin cushion,” Aspen bit off.

Bailey inched up her chin. “Blame Havana.”

“Why would I do that?”

“She didn’t tell my snake to stop.”

Aspen all but jammed her foot in her sneaker. “Havana shouldn’t have to. You should have told your mamba to stop.”

Bailey flicked out her hand. “I don’t interfere in her business; she doesn’t interfere in mine. That’s how we roll.”

“Roll. Differently.”

“Why?”

“All right, enough,” Havana cut in. “It’s time to go, so let’s get gone.”

Her faux fur ankle boots now on, Bailey turned to Isaiah. “I dug the bullet out of your wall. I’d give it to you as like, you know, a memento or whatever. But Aspen’s bearcat stole it and shoved it down my snake’s throat. She barfed it back up pretty quick, thankfully. Quinley then trashed it.”

“Unnecessary story.” Aspen shoved the mamba aside and beamed up at Isaiah. “Congratulations on the start of the imprinting process, by the way.”

Bailey’s lit up. “Ooh, yeah, congrats!”

Havana smiled. “We’re thrilled for you.”

He looked at each of the three females. “Don’t say anything of it to anyone.”

“We would never,” Bailey assured him.

“Ever, ever,” Aspen added, tugging on her other sneaker.

Havana gave a solemn nod. “It’s your news to deliver.”

Isaiah sighed, sensing … “You’ve already told people, haven’t you?”

Aspen pulled a face, sheepish. “Only Blair.”

“And Elle,” said Bailey.

Havana cleared her throat. “And Bree. Oh, and—”

“Go,” he told them, pointing at the door.

All three said quick goodbyes to Quinley as they melted out of the room and then promptly disappeared out of the house.

Rolling his shoulders, he let out a long breath and refocused on his mate. “Come here,” he coaxed, opening his arms.

She all but fell into them, her own arms winding around his waist.

He held her close, rubbing his chin on the top of her head; needing the contact and sensing she needed it too. His cat pushed against his skin in an effort to be closer to her.

“I was worried you’d get shot the moment you went outside,” she said against his chest. “I thought maybe the shooter was trying to lure you out of the house.”

“It wouldn’t have been Tommaso’s plan. Not when he’d be aware that we’d quickly work out his position. He needed to take a few shots and then run—plan successful or not.”

“I can’t believe he really came here, knowing the pride’s security would be stepped up and that we’d naturally be alert for a sniper. It’s reckless.”

“His pack has escaped consequences for so long it’s likely made them arrogant.”

She let her head fall back, revealing a pensive expression. “Huh. It would explain why they came after this pride in the first place. Only absolute dumbasses would target pallas cats.”

“I think the pack views it as pitting their strength against ours. The more powerful and dangerous the shifters they target, the more invulnerable they feel. But they’re not invulnerable, and they’ve forgotten that.”

“Samuele’s death should have served as a reminder.”

“It did to some extent, because the pack hasn’t tried swarming our pride. His death probably shook them a little. Then they came at me, but that didn’t work out. So they went after you, which also resulted in nothing. Each failure would have been unexpected and shook them that little bit more.”

Quinley really hadn’t thought about it like that. It made sense, though. The pack weren’t accustomed to being thwarted. Bending Alphas to their will over and over, evading detection and consequences, had made them cocky. It had really only been a matter of time before they became careless.

“I don’t suppose Vercetti told you anything helpful,” she said, lifting a brow.

“No. We didn’t bother questioning him. He wouldn’t have given up the location of his brothers.” Isaiah paused. “He did have the option of making the pain stop by telling us something, but he didn’t.”

Further proving that, no, he wouldn’t have blabbed under pressure.

Isaiah touched his forehead to hers. “He should never have gotten to you. Let alone here, in your own home. I promised you you’d be safe here.”

Oh, dominant shifters and their propensity to shoulder unnecessary guilt. “First of all, to state the obvious, this was not your fault. Second, I’m as safe here as it’s possible for me to be. Nobody is completely safe in any one place. You never heard of home accidents?”

“This wasn’t an accident.”

“No, but I’m making the point that being inside these four walls doesn’t give me some kind of magical immunity against all forms of danger.”

His gaze sank into hers, searching behind it. “Your cat’s all worked up, I see.”

Quinley nodded. “She’s tired of me and her getting shot at. And she was fretting like crazy that you’d be hurt, too. It only made her more cranky that your mom was mad at me.”

His brows flicked together. “My mom was here?”

“News of the shooting reached your parents pretty fast. They only left here about twenty minutes before you walked through the door. They’re elated that we’re imprinting, but it didn’t make Andaya any less mad.”

“Why was she angry at you?” he demanded, clearly outraged on Quinley’s behalf.

“For opening the front door when Havana knocked.” Quinley shrugged at his baffled expression. “She was a little shaken, I think. Fact is I should be able to answer my own front door. I didn’t do anything wrong tonight. The shooter did. I didn’t put myself in danger. He was the threat. Which was what I told her.”

“And her response?”

“Tears. Lots of them.” It had been one heck of a show. “I ended up apologizing for opening my door just so that she’d stop crying.”

His lips twitched. “She’s good at making you feel bad even when you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Speaking up in my defense, Bailey pointed out that if I hadn’t opened it, you would have. The idea that you might have then been shot made Andaya cry even harder. Which, honestly, didn’t seem to bother the mamba at all. I think she enjoyed it.”

“So, the unholy trinity took care of you, huh?”

“They did their utmost best to distract me. Out of appreciation, I pretended I didn’t know it was their game. And really, they are distracting. Have you seen the mamba and bearcat go at it before?”

He nodded. “I have.”

“I panicked at first because I know mambas are highly venomous. But Havana said bearcat shifters have peptides that make them immune to snake venom, ‘so it’s okay.’ Her words. I didn’t really agree that it was okay, considering those bites had to still hurt. But the bearcat’s just as vicious.”

“She’s just as merciless, too. Last week, they had a brawl in the Alpha’s house. At one point, she sat on the mamba’s head and then unleashed her anal glands.”

Quinley gaped. “Oh my God, that’s awful. Beyond mean.”

“Thankfully Havana has some kind of spray that neutralizes the smell.”

Quinley puffed out a breath. “I tell you, this has been the weirdest Christmas Eve I’ve ever had. Call me strange, but I’ve enjoyed it. Not the bullet-graze part, but the rest.”

“I haven’t enjoyed it.” He cupped her head, sobering. “I came far too close to having to know what it’d be like to live without you.”

“Let’s not stew on what could have happened. Let’s focus on the actual situation. I’m okay. You’re okay. Our pride’s okay. Tommaso Vercetti? Dead and gone. That’s two brothers down, two to go. Their messed-up pack is on its way out. Karma is catching up to them fast, and it’s using our pride to do it. Don’t you think that’s ace?”

“Well—”

“Me, too. I also really don’t want to talk about that pack anymore—they’ve commandeered enough of our time and attention tonight. Can we put them out of our heads for a while?”

He sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, we can do that.”

“Good. Because I’m hungry again, and Havana ate most of my snacks so I need to dig out more.”

“I’m surprised you let her have any.”

Quinley had actually refused at first, which had only made the Alpha laugh. “We made a deal.”

“Which was?”

“I’d let her have some, and she’d replace it all—with interest.”

“‘Interest’ being an additional bunch of snacks?”

Quinley beamed. “Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner. Congrats.”

He shook his head, mirth creeping into his eyes. “You’re a nut.”

She could live with that. “A nut who’s hungry, so let’s get that fixed.”

Slipping on her gloves the following afternoon, Quinley walked to the bottom of the stairs and called out, “Are you having a number two up there or something?”

There was a muffled thud. The closing of a door, maybe. “No!” Isaiah yelled from presumably the bathroom.

“Then what’s with the hold up?”

No sounds of footfalls preceded his appearance at the top of the stairs. For a dude his size, he was seriously stealthy.

“There’s no hold up,” he said, making his way down to her, taking the stairs two at a time. Reaching the bottom, he stared at her, the epitome of cool and casual. There was a glimmer of heat in his eyes, though.

Feeling her lips flatten, she set her hands on her hips. “You peeked in the lingerie store bag, didn’t you?”

He gave an innocent shrug. “It’s Christmas day. There’s no more need for purchases to be surprises.”

She ground her teeth. “Yes, but I specifically said that what’s in the bag is a surprise for later tonight.”

“I never heard that last bit.”

“Sure you didn’t,” she mocked. God, he was unbelievable.

His lips canting up, he inched closer. “I actually regret looking in the bag, because now all I’m going to think about is having you under me while you’re decked up like that.”

Ha. “Serves you right.” She let her gaze drop to his sweater. “You’re not really gonna wear that, are you?”

His mouth curved a little more. “Yeah. Why not?”

Well … it read, “Property of Quinley. All Rights Reserved.”A joke gift she’d had made which, ironically, appeared to be his favorite of all she’d bought. “I thought you’d laugh and then maybe stuff it in a drawer and leave it there.” It wasn’t exactly manly, despite being black and gray, and it was truly more of a gag gift.

“You thought wrong.”

So it appeared. “But … we’re leaving the house.”

“Yes. And?”

“And that’s something you wear when having lazy days at home—if you’re going to wear it at all—not for Christmas dinner at your parents’ table.”

He grabbed his coat from the rack and shoved his arms into it. “They’ll love it, trust me.”

That wasn’t really the point, which he had to be well-aware of. “This is like with the rake marks on your back, isn’t it? You want to show off the display of possessiveness?”

He pursed his lips. “Pretty much, yeah.”

She supposed she really should have seen this coming.

He picked up the gift bag that she’d set on the floor—it contained the presents they’d chosen for his parents. “Let’s go.”

When they stepped out onto the porch deck and the winter air fanned her face, she shuddered. “It’s a shame it didn’t snow.”

He arched a curious brow. “You, hater of all that is cold, likes snow?”

“I like looking at it.”

His lips curled. “Right.” He took her hand and led her down the porch steps.

As Christmas mornings went, well, she’d never had one better. She’d woken to his mouth on her pussy, received a spectacular orgasm, and then been brought to yet another powerful release when he fucked her in the shower afterward.

The sex hadn’t been hurried or short on foreplay. He’d lavished her body with his attention, touch, and skills. He’d focused on her to the exclusion of all else, which her cat had loved.

Once dressed and ready to face the day, they’d exchanged gifts downstairs in the living room. Her favorite was definitely the charm bracelet she’d subtly cooed over in Valentina’s jewelry store weeks ago.

Obviously, she hadn’t been as subtle as she’d thought. Or maybe she had. Because the fact was that Isaiah paid attention to her on such a level that he rarely missed anything.

As they right then left the cul-de-sac and began walking toward the pride’s apartment buildings, her mate scanned every rooftop, studied every car, scrutinized every individual near or far. So she didn’t speak, not wanting to distract him.

Finally, they arrived at his parents’ complex. They went up the elevator and got out on the correct floor, wishing any pride mates who they came across a merry Christmas.

“I thought your cat would be more at ease today, but I can sense how tense she is,” he said to her as they neared their destination. “She seemed fine earlier.”

“She was fine until now. It’s not that she doesn’t trust you to keep her safe while we’re out and about, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s that she only trusts you. We’re going to be around lots of people today. She’s a little too shaky to be chill about it.”

“We could go back home,” he offered.

“Not happening. And she doesn’t want to lock herself indoors anyway. She’s just on edge, that’s all. She’ll relax at some point.”

Isaiah frowned, wishing he’d considered that her cat might be so antsy once they left the house. The feline had just been so at ease all morning that he’d assumed she’d be fine throughout the day. His own cat hadn’t been concerned either. Now, the animal wanted to scoop her up and take her back home, loathing that she was uncomfortable.

Isaiah was about to suggest they go back regardless of Quinley’s assurances, but she right then knocked on his parents’ front door.

“If she gets worse, we’ll make our excuses and leave,” he made clear.

His mate waved away his concern—not being dismissive but reassuring. “She’ll be fine in an hour or so. Don’t worry.”

Don’t worry? He almost snorted. Next, she’d be telling him not to breathe.

The front door creaked as his mother pulled it open, beaming. “Merry Christmas, you two.”

They returned the sentiment as she hurried them inside. The welcoming scents of hot meat, vegetables, and gravy laced the air and went right to his belly. His cat rumbled a hungry growl.

Andaya hugged them both and treated them to air kisses. She gratefully took the gift bag from him, and her smile went to a whole new level of bright when he removed his coat and she saw his sweater.

“Oh, I love this. I should get one made for Koen.” Andaya’s smile faltered as she took his mate’s hand. “I’m sorry for last night, Quinley, I shouldn’t have—”

“You got a scare, it’s fine; I understand,” Quinley assured her, hanging her coat on a hallway hook. “You can make it up to me by feeding me extra dessert.”

Andaya grinned, clearly relieved. “That I can do.” She looked at him. “I can sense the beginnings of the bond. I passed on my congratulations to Quinley last night. Congrats to you, too, sweetheart.”

“Thank you,” he told her. “Where’s Dad?”

“Probably in that ugly armchair he won’t part with.”

“I’ve had this chair longer than I’ve had you!” Koen yelled from somewhere in the apartment.

“That doesn’t change the fact that it’s ugly and ratty-assed!” Andaya shouted as they began to make their way toward the living room.

Isaiah leaned into Quinley and lowered his voice as he asked, “You’re really going to exploit her guilt to get yourself some extra dessert?”

Quinley frowned at him. “It’ll make her feel better and it’ll make my belly fuller. How is that not a win-win situation for us both?”

He shook his head. “You can be so sweet it’s easy to forget you’re also devious as fuck.”

Her lips bowed up. “I know, I like it that way.”

In the living room, they exchanged greetings and well-wishes with Koen. Andaya and Quinley then disappeared into the kitchen so his mother could show her the appetizers that were almost ready to be served. And he would bet everything he owned that his mate would start snacking on food before it was brought out.

Returning to his chair—which, Isaiah had to admit, was ugly as fuck—Koen said, “I’m real glad you both came, son. I know you might have preferred to spend your first Christmas alone.”

Isaiah sank onto the sofa. “I also want Quinley to feel part of the family. This helps.”

His father gave a satisfied nod. “Before the ladies reappear—because God knows your mom will kill me if she hears me talking about it—I have to say I couldn’t be happier that another Vercetti is gone from the world.”

“You and me both.”

“How long do you think it will be before the last two brothers decide we’re responsible for Tommaso and his driver’s death?”

“Not sure. There are enough bounties on their heads that it won’t be immediately assumed we’re the guilty party. Not unless others in the pack knew of Tommaso’s plan to come after me.”

Koen glanced at the kitchen. “Did Quinley tell her family about last night?”

“No. She doesn’t want to spoil their Christmas, so she’s going to tell them tomorrow.”

“They’ll be furious that she was targeted a second time.”

“Not more furious than I am.” Isaiah flexed his fingers, his cat hissing at the memories of last night. “He almost got her, Dad. If she’d been stood just a few inches to the—”

“But she wasn’t. She’s alive, and she’s fine.”

“But not safe. And I hate that.” Isaiah cricked his neck. “I hate the idea of her living in fear.”

“She’s a tough one, your black-foot. Not in a feisty, confrontational, in-your-face way. It’s a quiet strength. It’s part of what makes her soothing to be around.” Koen paused. “Personally, I think the only one of you letting their worries get the better of them is you.”

Isaiah sighed, loathed to admit his father might be right.

“Forget all that for now. Enjoy your first Christmas with your mate.”

He set about doing exactly that.

Appetizers were eaten. Gifts were exchanged. Dishes were served. Christmas crackers were pulled. Visitors came and went. Evening snacks were passed around.

And yet, when the evening was almost over, his mate was again shoving food in her mouth. It didn’t seem possible that anyone could eat so much that regularly throughout the day.

Beside her on the sofa, his belly so full he felt like he’d burst, he watched in fascination as she devoured a sticky toffee pudding. “I don’t know how you’re still eating.”

She sniffed. “You’re just jealous that you have no room left for extras.”

“I mean, you’re not wrong. But I still have no clue how you aren’t full yet.”

Koen laughed under his breath. “I heard that you and Alex are going to go head to head in a burger-eating contest,” he said to her.

Isaiah felt his brows draw together. “A what?”

Quinley spooned more of her pudding. “It was Bailey’s idea.”

He sighed. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Alex stupidly thinks he’s going to win,” said Quinley.

At the other end of the sofa, Andaya slanted her head. “How do you know he won’t?”

“I’ve gone up against a wolverine in an eating contest before. I won.” Quinley shoved her spoon of dessert into her mouth. “Trust me, I have this in the bag.”

The doorbell rang for about the thirtieth time that day.

Andaya stood. “I’ll get it.” She disappeared.

“I’m going to answer a call of nature,” said Koen before walking toward the bathroom.

Isaiah turned his attention back to his mate. His gut clenched as she idly licked the back of her spoon. A frisson of heat worked its way through his blood and surged to his cock.

She stilled. Blinked. Met his gaze. “I felt that.”

“Felt what?”

“You know. It was just a flicker of heat, but I felt it.”

Another sign that imprinting was starting. “You’ll be feeling a fuck of a lot more when I get you home later.”

It was honestly killing him that they hadn’t yet left, his mind filled with all sorts of plans. Going by her expression, she sensed it just fine.

He let out a pained groan.

Her lips kicked up. “You really shouldn’t have looked in that bag.”

“I know,” he mumbled.

She chuckled, low and wicked.