CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FOUR

“You’re not nervous, are you?” Astor cast a look at Quinley’s tapping foot.

Quinley ceased the movement, unaware until right then that her restlessness was finding an outlet. She’d been cool and composed all morning, but that had changed once she’d arrived at the FindYourMatch headquarters.

“I wouldn’t say I’m nervous,” she told the Beta. “It’s just that this is a pivotal moment. Depending on what happens here, a lot can change. Or nothing at all.”

Her cat, too, was edgy. But that was mostly with impatience. The feline wanted to finally meet Isaiah, and she didn’t like having to wait.

Seated on her other side, Harlan looked at her. “I have arranged many matings. They usually only fall through if terms can’t be agreed on—some shifters don’t like to compromise. But Isaiah made it clear that he wants to move quickly, so he won’t want this meeting to be a waste of his time. That means he’ll be less likely to be finicky about details.”

Hopefully. There weren’t really many terms that Quinley would refuse to budge on. But just because she found said terms reasonable didn’t mean that Isaiah would agree, did it?

She took an idle glance around the reception area. It wasn’t plain and clinical with rows of plastic seating. It had an earthy color scheme, comfy plush sofas, pine-scented air fresheners, and even played soft background music. Probably all in an effort to create a soothing atmosphere. Because tense shifters didn’t make friendly shifters.

Others sat here and there, some appearing a little nervous about their own meetings while others seemed at ease.

“We can leave if you’re not certain this is a route you want to go down,” Harlan offered.

She frowned. “I am certain.”

“Then why are you pulling that face?”

“I’m hungry.”

Harlan snorted. “We’ll go get pancakes after we’re done here.”

Quinley perked up. “You just read my—” She stopped talking as movement in her peripheral vision snagged her attention. Quinley looked to see a trio of males filing into the building. Her attention slammed on the one in front.

Isaiah.

Damn, he looked even hotter in real life than he did in his photo. Over two-hundred pounds of off-the-charts sex appeal stood right there, far more powerfully built than she’d pictured in her mind. And oh, sweet Lord, his large and muscular frame was packed with hard, roped muscle.

Those smoky dark-gray eyes scanned the room with a predatory focus. They paused on her, settled firmly. Heat flashed there momentarily, causing her gut to twist. And then he was stalking her way on those long legs, each glide-like step precise; lazy; confident. That dangerous prowl … damn if it didn’t make her belly flutter.

He was essentially a walking sexual pheromone that went right for the ovaries. So it was no surprise that lots of bells and whistles and fireworks went off in her system.

She, Harlan, and Astor rose to their feet as he approached. Her cat unfurled and inched closer, watching Isaiah intently; noting the dominant vibes that flowed from him, potent and intense.

As a submissive, both she and her feline had always been attracted to dominants. The more powerful the male, the more drugging his dominance could be. A guy on Isaiah’s level? Oh, they were catnip—pure and simple.

He slowed to a halt a few feet in front of her, a slight upward tilt to one corner of his mouth. “Quinley, good to meet you in person.” His voice was deep with a pinch of smoke and just a little grit thrown in.

“Likewise. It’s a relief to know I wasn’t catfished or anything.” She gestured at the males either side of her. “This is my Alpha Harlan and his Beta Astor.”

“You must be Isaiah,” said Harlan.

Nods, head-inclines, and brief words were exchanged between the five males as Isaiah introduced the cats he’d brought along with him. One was his Alpha, Tate. The other was an enforcer, Deke. Both were big, imposing, and watched her intently.

Isaiah tilted his head at her. “You sure you’re five foot six?”

Astor snickered, the asshole. “I said I think she adds an inch to make herself feel better.”

Quinley checked the urge to ram her elbow into the Beta’s ribs. “I am exactly five foot six,” she told Isaiah.

His lips twitched slightly. “Height doesn’t matter, as I’ve already said.” He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Your cat is close,” he noted, a hint of a question there … as if concerned that her feline might be on the defensive.

Quinley gave him a reassuring look. “She’s always close.” If one good thing had come from Zaire’s rejection, it was that the bond between Quinley and her cat had strengthened. That shared awful experience had brought woman and animal closer; made them more protective of each other. Which also meant her cat was never far from the surface.

A line dented Isaiah’s brow. “She’s … agitated.”

Quinley shrugged. “She doesn’t like the music.” Her cat was fussy.

Hinges creaked as a door to their right opened. A pretty dark-skinned female stood in the doorway, smiling. “Quinley Bevan and Isaiah Hale?” she called out.

“That’s us,” Isaiah told the woman before turning back to Quinley. “After you.” His lips tipping up slightly again, he motioned for her to walk on ahead of him.

“Thank you.” She crossed the reception area, shook the woman’s hand—cheetah shifter, Quinley sensed—and entered a small room. A row of three chairs faced an identical row. To their left was an armchair and small mahogany table.

“Please sit,” the cheetah invited once everyone was inside.

Quinley and her pride mates sat on one row while Isaiah and his fellow pallas cats claimed the other row. Directly opposite her, he sat tall, his thighs spread, his arms casually braced on the armrests—the image of at ease. He sort of invaded the space around him.

Having closed the door, the cheetah took the lone armchair and retrieved a clipboard from the table. “Now, it seems you all got the introductions out of the way in the reception area. Good. I’m Thalia, my role here is to draft up an agreement based on what you all discuss and decide. Should you fail to reach one, Quinley and Isaiah are of course free to contact any of the other FindYourMatch members.”

Isaiah hoped there’d be no need for that. Because something about Quinley just pulled at him. Maybe it was that, being so petite compared to him, she called to his protective instincts.

Small she might be, but she didn’t have a small presence. Would never go unnoticed in a room. Too striking. Too steady and sure.

And fuck, what an ass. It was round and tight and as perfect as her ample breasts.

Her cat was no easier to overlook. He could almost see her prowling beneath the surface, the light of her feline eyes coming and going behind Quinley’s. It was fascinating to watch; even snagged his own cat’s interest.

It was only then that his animal really looked at Quinley, immediately noting the shadows in her gaze and the cobwebs of sadness and resignation that clung to her.

Isaiah didn’t speak. Neither did she. Nor did the others.

Often, a submissive would cut through silence as if to save everyone from any awkwardness. But as Isaiah stared at Quinley, she quite simply stared back; watched him with the patience of a hunter, reminding him that black-foots didn’t always follow the script you expected.

“Quinley tells me you’re an enforcer,” Harlan said to him.

Isaiah inclined his head. “I am.” He wondered if the Alpha knew that his son-in-law was Quinley’s true mate or if it was something she’d kept from him.

“How long have been in your position?”

“Twelve years.”

“And your bodyguard position?”

“That’s a more recent development.”

Harlan twisted his mouth. “I’d imagine, then, that you work a lot of the time.”

“I do.” Isaiah returned his attention to Quinley. “Would that be a problem for you?”

She shook her head. “I prefer being alone. People annoy me.”

Isaiah smiled at her frank response. His cat wasn’t sure how he felt by how intently she assessed them. Submissives did that. Read you. Studied you. Picked up on your unspoken wants. Heard the words you didn’t voice. Anticipated your needs before even you did.

“And you’re a healer, right?” Tate asked her.

She jiggled her head slightly, her nose wrinkling. “Of a sort.”

“Yes, Isaiah tells me you specialize more in aiding with pain relief. It’s a substantial gift.” Tate slid his gaze to Harlan. “And yet, you are not straight-off attempting to negotiate a way to have that gift still at your disposal if she joins my pride. Most Alphas would. Do you have other members with the same healing ability?”

“No,” replied the Alpha. “But any of my cats who need her aid will visit her at the salon I own and pay for her services like any other customer.”

“I’ve worked there since I was sixteen, right alongside my sisters.” She glanced from Tate to Isaiah and back again. “I don’t wish to give up my job, so I’d prefer to know now if that would be an issue.”

Tate pursed his lips. “The salon isn’t on Crimson Pride territory, is it?”

“No,” she replied. “It’s near the train station not far from here.”

That placed it at about a twenty-minute drive from where the majority of the Olympus Pride resided. “Then I see no issue,” Isaiah told her. “If you wish to keep your job you should keep your job—I wouldn’t object to it.”

“Neither would I,” Tate added.

Relief moved over her face. “Okay. Good.”

Harlan arched a brow at Isaiah. “You understand that, should you take Quinley as your mate, it will give you no rights at all where the salon is concerned? It is my business and under my management.”

“And when you step down as Alpha, will it still remain under your management?” asked Isaiah.

“Yes. I originally bought the salon for my mate; it was a personal purchase and not a property that will be passed along to the next Alphas.”

Thank God,thought Quinley. She couldn’t have worked for Nazra and Zaire in any shape or capacity.

Harlan turned to Tate. “You have alliances with both the Phoenix and the Mercury Pack, I’m told.”

The Alpha pallas cat stilled. “I’m not here to form another one.”

“Harlan.” Quinley quietly dragged out his name, a warning there; hoping he wouldn’t mess this all up despite his reassurances to the contrary.

“I didn’t ask for one, did I?” her Alpha said, all innocence. “It was just a throwaway comment.”

It was him being an opportunist. Focusing on the pallas cats, she said, “My family heard you’re pretty inclusive, so they’re worried they wouldn’t be able to visit me if I switched to your pride.”

Isaiah’s brow pinched. “We’re not so inclusive that we in any way attempt to limit contact between newcomers and their families or friends. They would be welcome in our home.”

Home. She loved that word. “Where would we live?” She’d heard that the pride owned both apartments and houses.

Isaiah stretched his legs out a little. “I have a house next-door to my Alphas. Three bedrooms. Big backyard with woods just beyond it.”

The latter appealed to her cat, who loved to wander and run and hunt.

“Do you have much you’d want to bring with you?”

“The basics, plus a few furnishings I’d rather not part with.”

He gave a “that’s fine” shrug. “The house has plenty of room. If I needed to remove some pieces in order to fit yours inside, I could do that.”

He was just a little too perfect, really. Everything about him appealed to her.

A sense of such unwavering calm shrouded him. It was powerful in how safe and steady it could make a girl feel. This was a male who could be relied on, who’d be a rock in any storm, who absolutely had his shit together.

She licked her lips. “How do you make arranged matings official in your pride?”

“We hold a party that doubles as a celebration of the pairing and a welcoming to the pride. Mating ceremonies are later held if a metaphysical bond forms.” Isaiah paused. “My next question may seem redundant, given your reasons for wanting a transfer, but I want to be sure: If we were to have children—something you must want or we wouldn’t have been paired by the site—would you wish to return to your old pride to raise them there?”

“Not at all.” She heard Harlan’s wince but couldn’t find it in herself to feel bad. He was, after all, part of the reason she hadn’t been happy there in a long time.

Isaiah didn’t miss the wince, or her lack of reaction to the Alpha’s discomfort. Didn’t seem to really miss anything.

He so wholly focusedon her. Still and watchful, he took in everything with that shrewd gaze—not just her appearance. Her expressions, her posture, her body language, what she said, how she said it.

She honestly felt like he saw through her right to the bone. Saw every strength, every weakness, every fantasy, every doubt, every scar. It was nerve-wracking.

“Good.” He settled his gaze on Harlan. “Quinley doesn’t think her true mate would be at all affected if she entered an arranged mating. Would you agree with that opinion? As his Alpha, you’ll know him well.”

Harlan’s brow creased. “I’m not actually his Alpha. After he claimed my daughter, they moved to his pride with the intention of returning when my mate and I stepped down. As for your question, I’d have to agree with Quinley.”

“Why?”

“I’ve known Zaire since he was a boy. He’s a hard one to read, but it wasn’t difficult to pick up that—despite how firmly he rejected the notion of them being predestined—he did later wonder if Quinley was right. Still, he did nothing about it. He claimed Nazra, and they fully imprinted. There’s no reason he’d be affected if Quinley were to take a mate.”

It shouldn’t hurt that her true mate—the other half of her goddamn soul—wouldn’t give one miniscule shit, but it stung nonetheless. It wasn’t about Zaire as a person, just the situation itself.

“If you and Quinley were to enter a mating,” began Harlan, “a year would be given for—”

“Two,” Isaiah cut in.

Harlan blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I want us to be given at least two years to imprint,” Isaiah elaborated. “We’re not just two people who want an arranged mating to work, we’re two people who chose this path because we’ve had to walk away from our true mate—that leaves a mark. We may need more time than the average shifter for imprinting to begin.”

Harlan looked at Quinley. “Do you have an objection?”

She shook her head. “No. Two years is fine.”

Isaiah nodded, satisfied. He would bet that the reason she hadn’t hesitated to agree was that she was in absolutely no rush to return to her pride. By how very easy it would clearly be for her to transfer to his, she’d lost whatever comfort she might have once had in her pride. He didn’t think that was merely due to her true mate’s rejection. This wound seemed older, deeper.

“All right,” said the Alpha before relocking his gaze on Isaiah. “Should you imprint but the bond dissolves, she will of course be permitted to leave your pride and take with her any of her personal belongings.”

“Naturally,” Isaiah agreed.

“Should Quinley expect trouble from your pride mates?” Harlan asked him.

He felt his brow crease. “Why would she?”

The Alpha hummed. “There are some who give you trouble, from what I heard.”

Isaiah went still, knowing exactly what he would have heard. Tate and Deke had clearly reached the same conclusion, because both muttered curses.

Quinley looked up at her Alpha. “What does that mean?”

Harlan scratched his jaw. “Astor became aware that—”

“I was accused of arson and murder by a select number of pride mates when I was a juvenile,” Isaiah blurted out, his gaze on Quinley; giving it to her straight. If she was someone who’d be put off by unproven accusations, it was best he knew now. “To this day, despite all evidence to the contrary, they continue to believe that I’m guilty. They also have no problem voicing this, hence the rumors.”

She didn’t bat an eyelid. “Then they’re dicks.”

A snort popped out of Astor.

She shrugged. “I only speak the truth.”

Isaiah studied her face. She believed him, he realized. She wasn’t just saying it, she meant it. She’d taken him at his word just like that.

A sigh slipped out of her. “I know a thing or two about toxic rumors.”

That hooked Isaiah’s interest right there, heightening his curiosity about her. Even his cat edged forward, intrigued despite himself.

“You don’t believe the rumors are true, do you?” she asked Harlan. “His Alpha would hardly have made him both an enforcer and his personal bodyguard if he was capable of that kind of betrayal.”

“I didn’t say I believed what I heard. I just wanted to know if it will impact you.”

“There’s no reason it would,” Isaiah told him. “Those cats are no longer part of my pride anyway.”

Isaiah moved his attention back to Quinley. He’d always imagined that his mate would be as equally dominant as he was. He’d thought it was what he wanted. But here he was, drawn to this submissive in a way he never had been to any dominant.

She was candid. Decisive. Centered. Didn’t make snap judgements.

All things he liked.

Despite the high-energy vibe she gave off, Quinley was pretty chill and airy. Restful in that way that only submissives could be, making a person feel they could breathe easier.

He could easily imagine having her settled in his home, making it their home. He could definitely imagine fucking her raw. That would happen a lot. He didn’t have to worry that they wouldn’t suit in bed—their sexual wants must have matched up for the site to have paired them.

As for his cat … the animal was intrigued by her but no more. Still, it was better than nothing. More than Isaiah had actually hoped for.

Isaiah leaned toward her. “Enough of the hypotheticals. Can we agree that we’ll take each other as mates?”

Quinley’s gut clenched, but in a good way. She hadn’t realized how much she’d hoped he’d say that until the words flew out of his mouth.

When she’d signed up for the website, she hadn’t held much hope that she’d find someone who would suit her well. But he did. At least in theory. Whether they’d manage to permanently bond she didn’t know. The potential was definitely there, though.

He ticked her every box. As a submissive, she needed things in a mate that a dominant might not. A female dominant might find strength, power, and authority attractive in a male. But they wouldn’t crave them the way a submissive female shifter would.

Isaiah’s stabilizing strength and reliability came across in the confidence that all but poured off him. It seduced her like nothing else.

Her cat would accept him—powerful male shifters were its drug. She craved a strong and dominant mate who’d make her feel safe.

Quinley swallowed, knowing her life was about to change; exalted by the idea. “Yes.”

His mouth curved. “Good.”

Damn, he had a killer smile.

“Perfect,” Thalia piped up.

Quinley blinked. She’d forgotten the woman was there.

“I want to make it official on Monday,” Isaiah declared.

Harlan frowned. “That’s in two days’ time.”

Isaiah flicked a brow at her. “Do you need longer than that to pack your things?”

“No.” She’d rope her family in to help, if need be.

“Do you have an objection to going through with the mating so soon?”

“No, none. I see no reason to wait.” Quite the opposite, really.

Harlan sighed. “This is all happening very, very fast. Are you sure you both wouldn’t like to take a little time to think about it, or to at least schedule the mating for a time further in the future?”

“I’m sure,” said Isaiah.

“As I said, I see no reason to wait,” said Quinley.

Harlan puffed out a resigned breath. “All right. Monday it is.”