CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Isaiah inwardly smiled at how Zaire stiffened. Bingo. “Hearing the shit you say and the way you say it … I think you figured out some time ago that she was right. But I also think you did your best to ignore it, because you cared about Nazra and were too set on being an Alpha of a pride.”

It was what the guy had strived for growing up, what he’d likely been groomed to be, what his inborn nature would have demanded of him. And with the way black-foots operated, he could never have ruled with a submissive at his side.

“Not true.” The hard protest held a shaky note that betrayed its lack of genuineness. “I didn’t know.”

His cat snarling at the lie, Isaiah forged on, “You bonded with Harlan’s daughter instead, who I think you do love. You thought you’d be happy with her; happy to rule alongside her. And maybe you are to some degree. But there’s a strain on your relationship. I’m standing close enough that I can tell your imprint bond is chipped at the edges. What caused it?”

Zaire’s eyes flared. “That’s none of your—”

“Let me take a guess.” Really, it seemed pretty obvious. “At some point, you realized your personality is better suited to a submissive than a born-alpha.”

The black-foot pulled in a sharp breath.

“You and your cat need things from Nazra that, being the complete opposite of a submissive, she simply can’t give. In the beginning, you may have been able to gloss over it. But it steadily began to eat at you and your animal, and you soon started to wonder if maybe you should have made different choices. Still, you stayed on the path you’d put yourself on.”

As someone who’d never been able to exercise the full extent of his dominance until Quinley, Isaiah knew how it felt to have to hold back. It was like boxing away a part of you. It meant leaving certain needs unmet. It stopped you from feeling completely fulfilled. And there eventually came a point where that lack of fulfilment nagged at you.

Isaiah suspected it had been nagging at Zaire for some time. The black-foot had likely ignored it, sure it would disappear once the position of Alpha became his; sure that was what he needed.

“My relationship with Nazra is none of your fucking business,” Zaire hissed.

“And my relationship with Quinley is none of yours. Doesn’t stop you from coming here and expressing opinions I don’t give a shit about.”

“The only reason I’m here—”

“Is that you’re hoping you can push me into starting a brawl,” Isaiah finished. He’d picked up on that pretty much straight away. It was why he hadn’t planted his fist right in the black-foot’s face. Isaiah was feeling no inclination to give Zaire anything he wanted. “Then you get to have an excuse for why violence broke out—you were just defending yourself.”

Zaire’s nostrils flared. “I’m not here to challenge you.”

“But you want a full-on duel. So does your cat. I can feel his rage. He wants to gut me open. I have what he thinks belongs to him. Only he’s wrong. Quinley’s mine.”

Zaire’s eyes briefly flashed cat as an animalistic growl eased out of him. “If you give such a damn about her, why has she been shot twice while under your watch?”

Isaiah didn’t point out that the second shooting had resulted in a bullet-graze, not a full-on shot. He didn’t owe this male anything, regardless of what the dick seemed to think. “Pride business is pride business. You’re not entitled to know shit. You never were, where Quinley’s concerned. And yet, you’ve kept an eye on her through others.”

Surprise rippled across Zaire’s face.

“It was an easy enough guess,” said Isaiah with a slight shrug of one shoulder. “You ‘overhear’ far too much. Having people report back to you anything interesting regarding her all these years—that’s where you fucked up. By indulging your need to know what happened in her life, you kept her in your mind’s eye; in your cat’s mind’s eye. It would have been better for you to go on as if you’d never met her.”

Not that it would have been simple. Isaiah knew that personally—he’d kept watch over Lucinda, unable to help himself. The difference here was that he had stopped once he claimed Quinley. Zaire hadn’t done the same when he claimed a different female.

“You really didn’t know about her plans to enter an arranged mating, though,” Isaiah mused. “My guess is that your sources kept it from you—probably at the bidding of Nazra, who worried you’d otherwise put a stop to it.” He slanted his head. “She was right to worry, wasn’t she? You would have stopped it.”

Zaire ground his teeth. “I wouldn’t have wanted Quinley to bind herself to a stranger, so I would have found her a different mate.”

Isaiah snorted. “You couldn’t even bring yourself to stop monitoring her. How could you have given her to another male? You definitely wouldn’t have consented to her leaving the pride. It would have suited you and your cat to feel that you had some control over her. You hate that you don’t. You hate that I have her. But what you hate more is that you have everything you thought you ever wanted … and it still feels like something’s missing. Which, you’ve come to realize, is Quinley. You’re here to vent all your shit on me.”

“No—”

“I’d warned you last time you showed up here that I’d take your return as a challenge, so you were banking on me attacking you instantly. Your mistake was in thinking that I wouldn’t pick up on it.”

“I’m here because I need the dreams to stop,” Zaire burst out. “That’s what happens when I fight any urge to see her, or I know she’s in danger. I dream about her.” He paused, his eyes narrowing perceptively. “You know what that’s like.”

“Yeah, I do. It sucks. But it doesn’t change that you have no right to be here.”

Hearing the dick claim that Quinley featured in his dreams, it was hard for Isaiah not to lunge forward and claw the fucker’s face right off his skull. The only thing that stayed Isaiah’s hand was knowing it would give Zaire the reaction he wanted. Why else admit to a man that you dreamed of their mate?

A shuffling sound came from his left. Isaiah looked to see Quinley’s cat edging out from under a car. He tensed, not wanting her to be exposed to this.

He expected her to snarl at Zaire or swipe out a paw in warning, but she didn’t. She deigned the guy with a disinterested look and padded over to Isaiah. She then scrabbled up his side to settle on his shoulder like she belonged there, paying the Alpha zero attention.

It hit Isaiah, then. Hit him hard. Right in the chest. And it was the best kind of punch. Because it was apparent that she felt no need to warn Zaire away since, as far as she was concerned, he presented no threat to her and Isaiah’s bond.

His raging cat ceased pacing, soothed by just how much she evidently trusted that the connection they were building couldn’t be sabotaged. It settled something in Isaiah as well, making some of the tension leach from his shoulders.

He reached up to stroke her head, his eyes on Zaire; watching the emotions that drifted across the Alpha’s face. Pain. Jealousy. Anger. Conflict. Resentment.

The thing was … those feelings weren’t really about Quinley as a person. They were visceral reactions; came from the elemental heart of Zaire and his inner cat, not from their emotional heart.

Her little feline continued to pay the guy zero interest. She was all about scent-marking Isaiah, rubbing the side of her neck against his head.

Zaire’s gaze flicked back to his. “My cat was like that with Nazra in the beginning. Not so much now. That’s how it goes with imprinting.” It was a taunt.

“Only when the bond becomes brittle. That won’t happen with me and Quinley. And if you had put all your focus on Nazra instead of selfishly keeping tabs on Quinley, it might never have happened to your bond. Maybe you could fix it—I don’t know. Don’t care. I’m done here.”

“But—”

“Admit it or don’t, but we both know you came in the hope of provoking me into starting a fight. I’m not going to give you that. I’m not going to give you any damn thing.” Not even his cat, despite how much he’d enjoy mauling this son of a bitch, would grant him any such satisfaction. “You can either challenge me, or you can get the fuck out of here.”

Zaire wanted to challenge him. It was evident in his expression and body language. He wanted to give his inner animal the release it desperately sought; wanted to punish Isaiah for claiming Quinley.

The male’s gaze again bounced to her cat, who’d tucked herself into the crook of Isaiah’s neck—something she occasionally did at home to nap. She was purring, content. And something about it made the anger in Zaire’s gaze fade, only to be rapidly replaced by pure turmoil.

“Do you see how settled she is right there?” Havana asked the Crimson Alpha, sidling up to Tate. “There you are, fronting off against her mate. But she’s not pacing and hissing or tense as a bow. She’s perfectly relaxed, trusting that he’ll protect them both if necessary.”

Zaire slowly swerved his head to look at the devil shifter.

“To her, he’s her mate and you are quite literally irrelevant,” Havana bluntly stated. “Fighting with Isaiah won’t make you relevant to her. Nothing you do would mean anything to that cat. You rejected her, you turned your back on her, you did nothing to protect her when she needed protection, and you went and claimed another female.”

“I know what I did,” Zaire gritted out.

“It’s like Isaiah said before,” Tate cut in. “You hate him for having her, but you hate more that the choices you made years ago didn’t bring you the contentment you were sure they would. Do you really want to make Quinley pay for that?”

Zaire glared at him. “I’m not making her pay for anything.”

Havana cast him a Come on look. “Dude, you’re stood here trying to goad her mate into a public brawl. How can you think that won’t impact her? You can sense that they’re imprinting on each other, so you know she cares for him. If you were to hurt him, it would hurt her. Haven’t you done enough of that?”

Zaire averted his gaze again, swallowing hard.

“Go,” said Isaiah, pulling the black-foot’s attention back to him. “There’s nothing for you here. You won’t get a duel, you won’t get contact with Quinley, and you won’t have a shot at fixing your bond with Nazra unless you move on.”

Zaire drew in a long breath, his attention zipping to Quinley’s cat.

Isaiah peered up to see that she was now staring at Zaire, a warning in those eyes.

The Alpha’s own eyes turned cat again, his animal looking right at her. She went back to scent-marking Isaiah—making it clear where her affections and loyalties lay.

A low growl oozed out of the male cat. Zaire’s eyes abruptly became human once more, and he squeezed them shut as he shook his head hard.

Tate folded his arms. “What’s it gonna be? A fight with Isaiah, or a lifetime without Nazra—because let’s face it, you won’t manage to repair things with her if you go ahead with a duel.”

Zaire’s eyes snapped open, pinning Tate with a glare.

“And bear in mind that if you lose Nazra, you’ll lose your position of Alpha as well,” Havana tacked on. “Then giving up Quinley will have been for nothing.”

And that … that seemed to get through. Because Zaire’s glare eased, the hardness in his gaze melting away. He spared Quinley’s cat another look, his mouth tightening, a long exhale escaping through his nose. He then gave his head another fast shake and sharply pivoted on his heel. Moments later, he was driving out of the cul-de-sac.

Havana turned to Isaiah. “For a minute there, I actually thought he’d choose to challenge you nonetheless.”

So had Isaiah. “It was that last comment you made that caused him to reconsider.” He looked off in the direction of where the car had headed.

“I doubt his cat will pester him to come back, because that little miss up there”—Deke tipped his chin at Quinley’s feline—“made it very clear in how she behaved that she’s too committed to you to find anything a threat to your partial bond.”

Yeah. And damn if it wasn’t a seriously good fucking feeling. “Which is likely why she came out in the open. She knew it would get the message across.”

Havana gazed up at her, smiling. “She looks so sweet when she’s not standing on my fence giving me a death stare. I admire her guts too much to be mad about it.”

Tate snickered. “And you don’t want to be one of the neighbors who finds creepy little presents on their bed.”

“That, too,” the devil admitted.

The feline fidgeted, turning her head toward the house, digging her claws into his shoulder just enough to get her wish across.

“We’re gonna head inside,” Isaiah told the others. “Later.” Gently plucking the cat from his shoulder, he held her against the front of his chest as he reentered the house. In the living room, he nuzzled her little face. “Shift for me.”

Bones snapped and popped as she changed shape. Then he had a very naked woman in his arms.

Burrowing further into him—likely for warmth—she tilted her head, concern etched into her face. “You okay?”

“I wasn’t, because he was pissing me off. But then your cat made an appearance. And realizing she didn’t perceive him as an impediment to the development of our bond … that got me.” And everything inside him and his feline had relaxed.

“She did want to make a point to him, but she was also anxious to soothe you. For me and my cat, he’s just a nuisance. We still don’t want him near you, but we have too much faith in our growing bond to think anyone but me, you, and our animals could jack it up.”

Which they never would.

“I swear, Lucinda could walk right up to our front door—and yeah, I’d want her gone; I’d ensure she knew that she wasn’t to come back. But I wouldn’t worry that seeing her would change things for you. Not now. You assured me the day we saw her at the mall that you’d let her go, and I trust that you meant it.”

That was yet another warm punch to his chest. “Good. Because it would change nothing. You’re all I want. All my cat wants.” He cocked his head. “How much of the conversation did you hear?”

“A lot, but I don’t know how long you’d been talking before my cat snuck over. I heard you mention something about sensing that his bond with Nazra was chipped at the edges.” She sucked on the inside of her lower lip. “You were right in believing he wanted to push you into throwing down a gauntlet—it was plain to see.”

“He wanted my blood, but he needed an excuse to draw it.”

“He wouldn’t have felt better for it afterwards. He also would have screwed everything up for himself—and for no good reason at all. Havana shouldn’t have had to point that out to him.” Quinley idly tugged at Isaiah’s collar. “Maybe he’ll now go mend his bond with Nazra.”

Isaiah couldn’t say he wished him luck or anything. The guy was a fucking tool, and he’d let Quinley down one too many times. Not that Isaiah was mad at Zaire for giving her up—he never would be, because she wouldn’t otherwise be his—but he was pissed that the male had never tried putting an end to the crap she’d dealt with for years from his peers.

“It surprises me that I appear in his dreams. I mean, he did used to appear in mine when I was younger. But after he claimed Nazra, it stopped for me. I would have thought he could say the same.” Her expression turned cautious. “Do you still dream about Lucinda?”

Ah, such a deceptively casual question.

“I won’t be upset with you if you do,” she hurriedly assured him. “It’s not exactly something you can control. I’m just wondering.”

He brushed his mouth over hers. “No, baby, I haven’t dreamed about her since before I claimed you.” Quinley took up too much of his mental space to leave room for anyone else.

Her lips hitched up. “I’m glad you’re free of them.”

Well, of course she’d be more bothered about how he’d be affected by the dreams than how they’d make her feel. Typical Quinley. “I dreamt of you before I even met you.”

She blinked. “You did?”

He nodded. “The night after we exchanged messages on FindYourMatch.com. I don’t remember the dream all that well, but I do remember you were pregnant.”

A thoughtful expression slipped over her face. “Do you think it was something to do with Lucinda being pregnant? Like … your mind substituted me for her in the dream as a reflection of how you were moving on?”

“Not sure. All I know is that I woke up feeling good for the first time in a while. It made me more eager to meet you.” He slid his hands down to cup her ass. “And when I saw this phenomenal ass right here, I was sold.”

She chuckled. “I have noticed you seem to like it.”

Considering he’d bitten it, finger-fucked it, claimed it, come inside it, and spanked it hard enough to leave a handprint there … yeah, he wasn’t surprised she’d figured that out.

“For me, it was how cool and steady you are that pulled me in. I’m not shallow, you see, so I’m not swayed by physical attributes like you clearly are.”

He grinned. “Bullshit. You eye-banged me just as I did you.”

“Believe what you want.”

“I believe what’s true.”

A little shiver took her. “Now I need to dress, because I’m getting chilly even with your body heat. Also, I want to hunt down a snack or two.”

“Naturally,” he said, his voice dry. “Before we get down to just enjoying the rest of our day, I want you to know one thing. If Zaire comes back, I may kill him.”

She thought about it for a moment. “Oh. Okay.”

Oh. Okay. Isaiah smiled and hugged her tighter.