CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER FIVE

After dropping Deke off at his apartment building, Isaiah drove straight to the cul-de-sac. Though they were only one week into December, the pride hadn’t wasted any time in pulling out the Christmas decorations. Wreaths with red velvet bows hung on doors. Ornaments such as giant baubles or pre-lit reindeers were strewn on lawns. String lights and LED icicles were clipped to doorframes, rooflines, shrubs, fences, porches, and window frames. Nutcrackers, slim trees, or frosted snowmen bordered front doors.

Isaiah didn’t own any such decorations—he’d always lived in an apartment until recently. So it had come as a bit of a surprise when he’d returned home a few days ago to find a wreath on his door, a pre-lit Christmas tree arch surrounding its frame, and garlands running along the rail of his porch and twined around the posts.

Before even entering the house, he had called his mother, knowing she’d be the culprit. She hadn’t answered the phone with a greeting. She’d straight off asked, “Do you really want to bring your chosen mate to a house that doesn’t look the slightest bit festive?”

Since the answer was in fact “no,” he hadn’t complained. He had, however, asked Andaya to at least not let herself into his house to decorate the interior.

Her response? “Too late.”

An example of how submissives could be a law unto themselves just the same as any dominant.

As he right then pulled into his driveway, Isaiah cast a brief look at the male riding shotgun. “I appreciate you giving up your Saturday morning to—”

“Don’t thank me, Isaiah,” said Tate. “There’s no need. You’re not just one of my cats, or even just one of my enforcers. You’re a friend. You need me, I’m there. Simple.”

Isaiah inclined his head in appreciation.

“I like her. Quinley. I can see why the site suggested her as a possible choice for you. You’re both compatible for sure.”

Isaiah gave a slow nod. “She’s calm. I need that. Havana, Aspen, and Bailey are a blast. But in a mate, I need someone a lot more low-key.”

“Black-foots typically are calm.” Tate’s mouth quirked. “Until they’re not. Try not to get on her bad side.”

“That’s the plan.”

“You two being compatible doesn’t guarantee an imprint bond, I know, but it gives the mating a better chance at working.” Tate paused. “Kudos to you for what you’re doing—and I’m not taking about entering an arranged mating.”

Isaiah felt his brow pinch. “Then what?”

“It’s not easy for us to dare reach for happiness when our state of mind is all fucked. You weren’t in a good place for a while, but you climbed out of that dark pit and you haven’t given up on the idea of still having something good. Not all shifters who’ve lost the chance of having their fated mate can say that.”

They’d get no judgement from Isaiah—it had been a struggle to patch up his wounds when healing felt much like saying, “Hey, it’s all good.” Nothing had felt “all good” back then. And maybe nothing ever would, but he wouldn’t know unless he dared reach for more. “Let’s hope it pays off.”

“My own hopes are high.”

Isaiah grabbed his phone from the cupholder. “You should get home to Havana. I need to get inside before my mother comes out here to drag me in. There’s no way my parents haven’t let themselves into the house to wait for me—she’ll want to hear exactly how the meet went.”

Tate opened the passenger door. “Then you’d better go tell her.” After exiting the car, the Alpha jogged to his own house.

Isaiah gave a nod to one of his other neighbors, who was jamming plastic candy canes along the border of his path, and then strode up to his house. He’d no sooner opened the front door than his mother materialized in front of him.

In terms of height, build, and facial features, he took after his father. But Isaiah had inherited his dark hair and gray eyes from his mother.

Her hands clasped tight, Andaya lifted her brows. “Well, how did it go?”

“Good,” said Isaiah, stepping inside. “A celebration will take place on Monday to make the mating official.” He closed the door behind him.

“Just like that?” she asked.

“Just like that.” He slipped off his jacket and then hung it on the coat rack. “Why wait? Seems senseless.”

She tilted her head. “I don’t know whether to interpret this as you just don’t care who you mate as long as it’s done quickly … or if you’re so at ease with moving fast because you’ve decided she might just fit you.”

“The latter.” Following the sounds of a football game, he walked into the living room to find his father sat on the sofa watching TV.

Koen looked up at him, an apology in his deep brown eyes. “I did tell your mom we should wait at home for you to call. She agreed, all smiles. Then she disappeared, and I had a pretty good idea of where she’d be, so I hightailed it here.”

Slipping past Isaiah, she sniffed. “I was worried, that’s all.”

“You couldn’t worry at home?” teased Koen, the glimmer of humor in his gaze.

Andaya cast him a haughty look. “Are you not even going to ask our son how the meet went?”

“I already know; heard him tell you.” Koen refocused on Isaiah. “I’m glad it went well. I wasn’t so sure if using the website was the best way to go, despite its success.”

Isaiah took the armchair. “I had a few doubts as well initially.” He’d signed up regardless because there had seemed no harm in giving it a try.

“But not now?” prodded Koen.

“No. She and I are definitely compatible.”

“Tell us about her.” Andaya sank onto the sofa beside Koen. “You’ve been stingy with details.”

Because Isaiah hadn’t seen the point in relaying them when he hadn’t been sure the meet would amount to anything. “Her name’s Quinley. She’s twenty-five. A submissive. Works at a beauty salon. And she belongs to the Crimson Pride.” Though not for much longer.

“Crimson Pride,” echoed Andaya, her brow creased. “I don’t think I’ve heard of it.”

“What makes you think she’ll fit you?” asked Koen.

“We’re similar in some ways—blunt, decisive, determined, calm,” said Isaiah. “We’re on the same page, want the same things, and she has no issues with transferring to our pride. She also knows what it’s like to find your true mate but be unable to have them.” And also apparently understood the impact of toxic rumors.

Koen’s brows inched up. “Is hers human like yours?”

Isaiah shook his head. “No. He’s a shifter. He not only rejected her, he claimed and fully imprinted on her Alpha’s daughter.”

Andaya winced in sympathy. “So Quinley’s had a front row seat to their personal show.”

“To an extent.” Isaiah sank deeper into his chair. “It seems that the couple moved to his pride for a while after the claiming. But they’ll soon be back, and then they’ll be appointed as the Crimson Pride Alphas.”

Realization washed over Koen’s face. “Yes, I can see why she’d be in a hurry to mate. No wonder she has no issues with a transfer. What breed of shifter is she?”

“A black-foot.”

Andaya blinked. “Well, at least she won’t bat an eyelid at how pallas cats are.”

Speaking of eyelids not batting … “She believed me when I told her the rumors about me were false.”

His mother frowned. “You told her about them?”

“No. Her Alpha seemingly had his Beta look into me. He heard about the rumors and asked if those who spread them would give Quinley any problems.” Isaiah crossed his feet at his ankles. “She dismissed the rumors; said the people persisting to believe that I was guilty were dicks.”

Her frown smoothing out, Andaya smiled. “I like her already.”

“I think she’ll make a good addition to the pride,” said Isaiah. “She’s a healer who specializes mostly in easing pain. We don’t have anyone like that.”

Koen tipped his head to the side. “You know, I wouldn’t have thought you’d choose a submissive for a mate. You never dated any.”

“I’ve always been very self-focused, and care needs to be taken with submissives.” Watching his mother bristle, Isaiah shot her a look. “Don’t pull that face, you know what I’m talking about. You don’t need to be handled delicately, but you do need someone who’s attentive, mindful, and focused on you. I couldn’t—and didn’t particularly want to—give that much of my time and energy to someone I was dating. But Quinley will be my mate, so it’s different.”

“How did your cat behave around her?” asked Koen.

“At first, he didn’t take much notice. But her cat is very bold and stays close to the surface, so that caught his attention.” Isaiah didn’t add that his cat had also been intrigued by her claim to be familiar with toxic rumors—he wasn’t going to share her private business with others unless she gave him her consent.

Andaya pulled out her cell. “I’ll contact the omegas and ask them to start getting the preparations ready for the celebration.”

“Way ahead of you on that. I texted Bree earlier.” As the primary omega, she took the lead in all omega-related matters. “She said to tell you that if you wanted to be involved just give her a call, so it seems she guessed that you’d want a hand in organizing the celebration.”

A pleased smile graced Andaya’s face. “I’ll call her once I leave here.” She eyed him carefully. “I know an arranged mating isn’t what you initially pictured for yourself, and I know it might continue to hurt for a very long time that you’ll never know what it is to be bonded to the other half of your soul. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be happy. You just have to be open to it.”

Isaiah felt his brow pinch. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because some elemental part of you may feel guilty for allowing yourself to be happy with anyone other than your predestined mate,” she explained. “And bonding with another can feel much like giving up all hope.”

His frown deepened. “I already did give it up.”

“There’s a difference between being aware that it would be foolish to hope and being able to shake it off all the way. Sometimes, ‘hope’ is a defense mechanism. We hold onto it for our emotional sake.”

“I don’t believe I’m still doing that.”

“Do you still keep tabs on Lucinda?” The question held a pinch of challenge.

“No.” It had been hard to stop—he was so used to monitoring her activities, to watching over her in his way, that ceasing to do so had felt strange.

“Do you still dream of her?”

Isaiah stilled. “How did you …”

“Your father used to dream of his. It stopped when we imprinted. But before that, she’d invade his dreams.”

Isaiah rubbed at his nape, uncomfortable. “It doesn’t happen as often as it used to.”

“They’ll occur less and less as you settle into your mating,” Koen assured him. “Once a bond forms between you and Quinley, they’ll cease altogether. Hand on heart, I don’t regret not having been able to claim my own fated mate. Your mother and I have something very special. I can’t imagine that I would ever have been happier with another woman. It’s a ludicrous thought.”

“That may seem hard to believe, but true mate bonds aren’t the be all and end all, Isaiah,” said his mother. “They certainly don’t guarantee happiness. The only thing they guarantee is that your mate never has an out.”

That was the thing about imprint bonds: they could reverse themselves if the relationship deteriorated, or if either of the couple or their inner animal withdrew from the mating.

“What we’re trying to say is that you haven’t missed out on the chance to have something special,” Andaya continued. “It’s just that you won’t have it with the person you originally thought you would.”

Isaiah liked to think he’d have a mating as solid as that of other imprinted couples around him—not only his parents, but Deke and Bailey, and also Bree and Alex. But … “It’ll be hard when I don’t have my cat’s support. For as long as he holds back from Quinley, it’ll put a strain on our attempt to form a bond.”

Koen nodded, sighing. “Like it won’t be difficult enough to form one with a relative stranger. Imprinting is always harder for shifters entering an arranged mating, because they generally weren’t a couple before then. They’re usually two relative strangers thrust together, like your mother and I were. But if this FindYourMate website is as successful as it claims to be, you have a better chance than most at making it work.”

Isaiah looked from one parent to the other. “It was four months before you felt the stirrings of imprinting, right?”

“Yes, which is fairly good,” said Koen. “But don’t be disheartened if you have to wait longer. I know you, son. You get annoyed if things don’t move at your pace. You can start to believe you’re wasting your time—something you hate to do—and then pour your energy into something else. Imprinting moves at a pace we can’t control or understand.”

Andaya nodded. “Don’t lose hope or positivity if things drag out—that would only slow the process down. Be patient. Focus not on forming an imprint bond but on building a relationship. You can’t have one without the other.”

“Ijust don’t like that I won’t get a chance to meet him before the celebration,” complained Raya, drumming her nails on the kitchen countertop. “I want to feel sure that you’re mating someone who’ll be good for you.”

Quinley briefly looked away from the dish she was washing. “None of us can be sure of that. Isaiah and I don’t know each other—”

“That’s my point.”

“This is just how arranged matings work. You know that.” Her sister just liked to moan, especially if she felt left out. “I haven’t even been in a room alone with Isaiah. Why should there be an exception for you?”

“I’m special. We all know that.”

At the table, Adaline snorted. “Yeah. Special. We’ll go with that.”

Raya glared at Adaline, affronted. “You’re insinuating I’m not?”

“It wasn’t an insinuation.”

Her lips thinning, Raya shook her head. “And you wonder why I insist that Quinley is your favorite.”

“I don’t have a favorite—I’ve told you this, like, a gazillion times.”

“Because you’re a liar.”

“Or you’re wacked. Which I say with love,” Adaline added softly, her face serene. “Pure and unconditional love. That is what I feel for you.”

“But you feel more of it for Quinley.”

“That doesn’t mean she’s my favorite.”

“How is that not favoritism?”

Quinley bit back a chuckle and plopped the clean plate on the drainer. The two women constantly teased each other in a way that would seem plain harsh to those who didn’t know them. No real hurt was caused. They just each had a dark sense of humor.

Scrubbing yet another plate, she peered out of the window in front of her. Her nephews—Adaline’s twin boys, Corey and Ren—were outside kicking a ball around with their father Will while Raya’s mate stood aside cheering the little guys on.

After returning from the meet, Quinley had found all of them waiting on her porch with takeout food—a bribe for entrance so that they could grill her. She’d given them the rundown of what occurred in the FindYourMatch HQ, but she hadn’t admitted just how enthusiastically her body had responded to Isaiah—her sisters would only tease her like idiots.

“Now stop whining at Quinley,” Adaline reprimanded. “You said you’d support her in this.”

“I will support whatever gets her away from Nazra and Zaire. But I still have concerns.” Raya turned back to Quinley, folding her arms. “I should be allowed to talk to Isaiah; warn him to treat you right and stuff.”

Quinley rolled her eyes. “You can do that at the celebration if you feel you must. Instead of complaining, could you maybe focus on the positives here? I’ll be away from Twit and Twat. I’ll get a fresh start. I’ll have a mate. I’ll still be working at the salon. And I won’t be very far away.” She set the clean dish on the drainer. “Isaiah made it clear that you’re all free to visit whenever you want.”

“Neither of you will be coming here to see us?” asked Raya, her brows dipping. “You should. Let those assholes Nazra and Zaire see that you’ve moved on and that they have no hold over your emotions.”

“I’m not interested in doing that. I just want to be away from them. My cat will accept Isaiah, but that’s not to say that imprinting will be simple for her. Having even minor contact with her true mate or the female who claimed him might get in the way.”

“You don’t want your cat to keep getting dragged into the past and end up focusing on her hurt rather than on what future she might have,” Adaline understood.

“Exactly,” Quinley confirmed, drying her hands on a small towel. “I want Isaiah to be the only male on her radar.”

“Well, news of the arranged mating will be circling even now,” said Adaline. “Nazra’s friends will call and tell her. I wouldn’t be surprised if she calls you, her father’s warning to leave you alone be damned, because this is a huge deal.”

Quinley shook her head. “She won’t have my number.”

“It won’t be hard for her to get it,” Raya warned. “So be braced for a call.”

There was no call from Nazra that day, though. Or a text. Or an email. Or anything at all.

She also didn’t send any of her friends to pay Quinley a visit on her behalf. So Quinley figured that either Nazra simply didn’t care, or no one had actually told her.

It turned out she’d figured wrong. Something she realized the following evening, when Nazra turned up at her cabin.

For fuck’s sake. Her grip flexing on the door handle, Quinley didn’t say anything. She merely stared at the other female. Her inner feline slowly pushed to her feet, her hackles rising.

It was no mystery why Zaire had been—if the stories were true—attracted to Nazra right from the start. There was no denying she was beautiful. Slanted cat-green eyes, tight curls the color of caramel, prominent cheekbones, hourglass figure. That she was a born-alpha had only increased her appeal for him.

Nazra arched an imperious brow. “Are you not going to invite me in?”

“Nope, I’d rather have witnesses to whatever you do next.” There was a couple standing not far away, their attention fixed on Quinley and her visitor.

Nazra exhaled heavily, suddenly looking … tired. “I haven’t come here to argue. I just want to talk.”

Quinley felt her brows draw together. This whole looking worn out thing could be a trick, but why use one?

“Really,” Nazra persisted. “All I want to do is talk. If it makes you feel better, you can leave the door wide open.”

Quinley poked her tongue into the inside of her cheek. “All right.” She stepped aside for the other woman to enter.

Nazra strode into the cabin and glanced around. “You’re all packed, I see.”

Yup. Boxes full of her possessions were stacked here and there. Her reading chair had been pushed near the door, ready to be taken.

Quinley didn’t shut the door. She remained right there, in full view of any who might pass or wander close. It paid to be careful when it came to Nazra.

The future Alpha female turned to fully face her. “I did think you might ask for a transfer. An arranged mating wasn’t the avenue I expected you to go down. Once upon a time, I might have tried to ruin it for you.”

Once upon a time? “But not now?”

“Don’t get me wrong, a small part of me would get off on having you under my boot heel,” Nazra bluntly admitted, unrepentant. “But the idea of having you gone from here appeals far more.”

Quinley double-blinked, taken aback.

“That surprises you?”

“I think it’d surprise a lot of people.” Even Harlan wasn’t expecting it.

A sigh eased out of the woman. “Before, I liked that you had to see Zaire and me together. It made me feel better, I guess.”

“About what?”

A hint of resentment blotted Nazra’s eyes. “You have a soul-deep claim to the man I love. It does take some sting out of it that he chose me, but not all of it. Because I’ll never know if he’d have made a different choice if the position of Alpha didn’t come with mating me.”

Ah. Huh. While some did suspect that his agreement to claim Nazra had been largely driven by ambition, it was also believed he cared deeply about her. And since they’d imprinted, Quinley hadn’t really considered that Nazra might harbor doubts.

“So, yeah, I was always jealous that you have an inborn claim to Zaire. Knowing you were miserable made me feel better. Sounds cruel, yes, but I never claimed to be a nice person. I don’t handle jealousy well.”

You’re kidding,Quinley inwardly deadpanned. “Most shifters don’t when it comes to their mates—true or chosen.”

“That’s the thing, you see,” said Nazra, her face hardening. “Whereas before I didn’t mind you being in his periphery, now I do. The imprint bond changes things. It amplifies possessiveness to such an extent that it feels like a living force inside you.”

“So you’re actually glad I’m leaving?”

“Yes.” Her eyes narrowed on Quinley. “What I want to know is if you’re serious about this arranged mating, or if this is some ploy to get Zaire’s attention?”

The woman couldn’t really think that was the case, surely. But … she did genuinely seem to worry that it might be. Weird.

“It’s no ploy,” Quinley told her. “I don’t want him. I don’t see him as mine. He rejected me and chose someone else. I could never accept him as a mate. Neither could my cat.”

“But you could be doing this because you want him to want you. I know all about hurting someone to make yourself feel better. And what better way to get back at me and Zaire?”

Quinley jerked slightly, totally baffled as to why the woman might think it would “get back” at him; that he’d at all react to anything Quinley did. “Has he given you some indication that my decision to mate bothers him?”

Nazra briefly looked away.

“He doesn’t know,” Quinley realized.

“No.” It was a murmur.

Well, there was no reason that he needed to, so … “All right, but do you honestly worry he’ll be bothered one way or another? Because truthfully, I don’t.”

Nazra cricked her neck. “There are things you don’t know. If you did, you would understand why I have my doubts. I need to know that you’re serious about mating the Olympus Pride enforcer; that any interest Zaire shows in this situation won’t change anything for you.”

“I’ve already told you, I don’t want Zaire. You either believe me or you don’t.”

“I want to believe you. But in your position …”

“You find it hard to take my word for it because you love Zaire—you know you’d fight for him. I don’t love him, and at no point would I ever want him.”

Nazra stared at her for long moments. “All right. But let me warn you straight up: If it turns out that you lied to me today, if you make any attempt to take him from me, I will kill you.”

Quinley let a slow, humorless smile curl her lips. “No, you won’t. I’m not the easy target you imagine. But neither of us need to concern ourselves with what would happen if we came to that bridge, because it’ll never come to pass.”

“That had better be true.” Nazra swanned out of the cabin, almost colliding into Adaline on the porch.

Quinley was guessing that one of the neighbors had called her sister, concerned that trouble might break out.

Adaline hurried into the cabin, closing the door behind her. “What did she want?”

“To be sure I wasn’t just using Isaiah to get to Zaire in some way and that I’m serious about making the mating work.”

Adaline’s head twitched in surprise. “She’s not going to try to stop it?”

“Apparently, she’d rather have me out of Zaire’s line of sight.” Quinley shrugged, still not getting why Nazra would be so invested in that.

“Huh.” Adaline scratched her cheek. “It’s good news for you, I guess. It makes me wonder why she’d be so behind having you gone from here, though. It never bothered her before.”

“They weren’t imprinted before. She said the bond accentuates possessiveness.”

Adaline nodded. “True-mate bonds do—I can attest to that. If there was anyone near my man who had rights to him, I’d want her gone from my sight and—more importantly—from his.”

“I can understand that much. But she seems genuinely worried about how he’ll react to my mating Isaiah—that I don’t get. She said there are things I don’t know. I didn’t ask her to elaborate because it was clear that she wouldn’t.”

“So he doesn’t yet know?”

Quinley shook her head. “It surprises me, given how they’re a gossipy bunch, that none of his friends from our pride have told him. I guess she might have made it clear through one of her own friends that no one is to contact him about it.”

“That is odd,” Adaline agreed.

“Let’s just be glad she’s not going to make any attempt to interfere in my plans. I doubt it would have worked, but Nazra can be … enterprising.”

“That much is true.”

Hearing her cell beep, Quinley fished it out of her pocket. Her belly did a little tumble on realizing she’d received a message from Isaiah via FindYourMatch: Hey, the celebration will start at 7 tomorrow, can you get to my place half an hour early so we can be ready at the venue for when the pride arrives?

Her nerves sang a frantic song at the thought of the celebration. She wasn’t having second thoughts or anything, she was just nervous. Quinley typed: Hi, yes, six-thirty is fine with me.

“I’m guessing that’s Isaiah, because you’re fidgety all of a sudden,” said Adaline.

“It’s him,” Quinley verified.

Another beep came. The next message read: Great. He added his address.

“Huh. Apparently, he lives in a cul-de-sac.” She’d worried he lived near a main road—Quinley’s cat was used to space, lots of land, and being tucked away from the world. The cul-de-sac would hopefully re-create that feeling of being separate from the hustle and bustle. “He was just asking if I’d arrive earlier than the guests. He must want us to greet them as they enter wherever the celebration is being held.”

“You all set for tomorrow?”

“Yup. Nervous, but definitely ready.” Quinley pocketed her phone. “I have my duffel packed with everything I’ll need until the rest of my stuff is delivered to Isaiah’s house.”

“It’s your house now, too.”

“Not until after the celebration. Want to see the outfit I bought for the event?”

Adaline’s eyes lit up in interest. “Oh, yes indeed. Lead the way.”