CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER EIGHT

Apiercing blare penetrated Isaiah’s dream, steadily clearing away the sleep motes. Flat on his back, he blindly reached out and slapped at his cell phone. As the alarm stopped, he let out a long sigh and rubbed at his face.

The sheets rustled, drawing his attention to the female who was using his other arm as a pillow. She lay on her side with her back facing him, one shoulder bare due to how baggy his tee was on her.

His focus darted straight to her brand. It was no longer raw, and the skin had reknitted. But the mark was no less distinct, and it would definitely scar.

Satisfied by that thought, Isaiah rolled into her, curling his arm around her. Her scent washed over him, and there was something … comforting about it. That scent meant something to him now. It belonged to his mate.

She still smelled faintly of him even though they’d showered after the final time he’d taken her through the night. He supposed his tee was mostly responsible for that.

Isaiah nuzzled her neck. “You awake?”

“Hm.”

He smiled. She had warned him that she wasn’t a morning person. Neither was his cat, in truth.

The feline had calmed down some. It still wasn’t happy that Isaiah had marked someone, but it did respect the meaning behind the brand. The cat understood that Quinley was theirs now.

Realizing he was idly tracing the brand with his fingertip, Isaiah felt his lips cant up. It was funny … he hadn’t thought he’d be moved by the bite. Not until they’d imprinted on one another. He hadn’t thought it would pluck at his attention or stir anything in him. But, on a basic and elemental level, the sight of it was almost enthralling.

“You need more time to wake up, that’s fine,” he said, sitting up sideways. He got to his knees, shifted aside, and rolled her onto her back.

She lifted her head, her eyelids fluttering. “What are you …?”

It took some shuffling on his part, but he was soon lying between her legs, his face level with her pussy. He didn’t respond to her question. Just got right down to eating her out.

She came fast. He’d learned the previous night that she didn’t last long during oral. Which he didn’t mind right then, because he needed to be inside her. Isaiah fucked her hard, not coming until she’d exploded a second time.

Wrung dry, he kissed her throat. “Morning.”

“It is a good morning,” she slurred. “Your tongue is a gift, your cock is a must-have, you fuck like a master, and your bed is the comfiest thing ever. I’m giving myself a mental pat on the back for mating you.”

He felt his mouth curve. “Who wouldn’t?”

A snort. “Don’t be so humble,” she deadpanned.

“I won’t.” He got out of bed, scooped her up, and carried her into the bathroom. “Come on, shower.”

“I can walk.”

“I like carrying you.”

Once they were both clean and dressed, they migrated to the kitchen. As they bustled around the room making coffee and breakfast, it didn’t feel awkward. He’d thought it might, considering it was the first morning they’d spent together, but no. Maybe it was that she was his, that this space was theirs now,that made the difference—he didn’t know.

Sitting beside him at the breakfast bar, she waved her spoon around, gesturing at the space. “I really like this kitchen.”

“Same. It was the only part of the house I didn’t change when I moved in.” Finished with his toast, he lifted his cup and shifted on the stool to better face her. “I haven’t lived here long, but I put my mark on the place real quick. You’ll no doubt want to do the same. Like I said last night, have at it.”

She gave him a pretty smile. “Thank you.”

“What time is the rest of your stuff being delivered?”

“Around six-thirty. There’s not a whole lot of it, so it won’t take long for me to unpack.” Quinley shoveled a spoonful of cereal into her mouth. “I’ll also have to let out my cat so she can leave her own mark on the place. She’s also set on territorially marking the yard.”

“She’s welcome to do both.” He took a swig of his coffee. “I want to meet your cat. Would she be up for that later?”

“Sure.” Quinley cast him an odd, sideways glance. “I take it you’d rather wait before introducing your cat to me or mine.”

Isaiah frowned. “There’s no need to wait. He has no negative feelings toward you.”

Her expression was soft but sober. “Don’t lie. If he looks at me and resents that I’m not—”

“He doesn’t,” Isaiah stated, firm. “I wouldn’t lie about that. I also wouldn’t suggest you meeting him so soon if I thought he’d give you the cold shoulder.”

Having been rejected by the one person who should never have overlooked or turned their back on her, she’d naturally be sensitive to any element of rejection. Isaiah knew he’d have to be mindful of that.

She eyed him for a moment. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

“I’m absolutely certain.”

“Then I’ll take your word for it.” She ate the last of her cereal, dropped the spoon into the bowl, and then chugged down what was left of her coffee. “Gonna have to head out.”

And … he found that he didn’t like that. Which took him off-guard, because he hadn’t for a second imagined he’d be fazed by her doing something so mundane as going to work.

Her head twitched to the side. “What’s wrong?”

Typical submissive, already so in tune with him. Being such a private person, he probably should have found it at least mildly irritating, but he didn’t. “Nothing’s wrong as such. I just unreasonably find that I prefer the idea of you spending the entire day here, where you’re safe.”

Her lips winged up. “You’re cute.”

“Cute?”

“Well … there’s no reality in which it would ever happen. I would never manage to spend the entire day indoors. And the beauty salon is not fraught with peril, so I’ll really be fine.”

Quinley could sense that, while he agreed with the latter, his instinct to keep her here wasn’t shifting. He didn’t intend to act on it, but he couldn’t shake it off.

She twisted so she fully faced him. “I’ll admit that you being Tate’s bodyguard makes me nervous. Being an enforcer carries enough danger. That you’re also the shield of the pride member who’s the biggest target … yeah, I don’t much like it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying I want you to give up the position,” she hurried to add.

He laid a reassuring hand on her knee. “I understand. We’re in the same boat. I don’t want you to give up your job, but I’m protective enough that I’ll worry.” He gave her knee a squeeze. “Thank you for that piece of honesty. I know you only confessed it to make me feel better.”

Busted. “Did it work?”

“Yes. I like that there’s a balance.” He slanted his head. “What is your job at the salon?”

“It doesn’t really have a title. People sometimes call it, ‘the regular brush with near-death,’” she added with an amused smile, thinking he’d return it. He didn’t.

“That does not make me feel better about you leaving for work.”

“They’re being dramatic.”

“What is it you do that would make them give such a dramatic answer?”

Probably something he wouldn’t like, actually, now that she thought about it. “The salon offers what has become a very popular pamper day package. So, basically, someone will come to the salon, shift so their inner animal can be bathed and groomed, return to their human form to receive a massage, and then go have their hair, nails, and makeup done.”

He stared at her for a long moment. “Please don’t tell me you bathe and groom their animals.”

Yeah, he definitely wasn’t pleased. “Would you prefer I gave massages?”

“Fuck, no.” He lowered his gaze to her hands. “They’re my hands now.” He set down his cup. “And I don’t want them getting bitten off.”

“It’s rare that I get bit or clawed.”

He pressed his lips together. “Again, this isn’t making me feel better about you leaving.”

He truly was super cute. “Really, it’s not dangerous. I use my healing energy to help relax and soothe them while I do my pampering part of the package. And shifters know that if their animals bite me they have to pay double, so they’re particularly careful of ensuring the beasts behave themselves.”

“Still not feeling better over here.”

Snorting, Quinley slipped off the stool. “I’ll be fine, I swear. And I really have to go, but I’ll be back around five-thirty.”

“You’d better come back unharmed or I’ll be pissed.” Rising from his stool, he dropped a kiss on her temple. “Have a good day at work.”

“You, too.”

“Drive safely, and call me if you need me.”

She saluted him. “Will do. Watch your ass, not just that of your Alpha.”

The drive to Blue Harbor beauty salon took only twenty minutes. She parked her car in the small lot across from it. The lot was used mostly by employees of the short row of businesses on that particular street.

The bell above the salon’s door chimed as she stepped inside. The scents of fruity hair products, astringent nail polish, lemon cleaner, and chemical dyes washed over her—all of which were designed for shifters, so the smells didn’t irritate her senses.

The small reception area was simple but stylish. Buttercream plush chairs were positioned near the floor-to-ceiling window, along with a round coffee table on which piles of glossy magazines rested. Products lined a glass shelving case pressed against the far wall. Among them were shampoos, hand creams, massage oils, and small bottles of nail polish.

Framed posters of glamorous hair models were hung on the white walls, not only in the reception area but between the large mirrors at the two individual hair stations.

Stood behind the curved, tidy white counter on which a computer, phone, and card reader sat, Adaline smiled at her. She was their main hairstylist, not the receptionist. But since having to fire their receptionist a few weeks back, they’d all pitched in with reception duties while they waited for the Crimson Alpha female to hire a replacement. Nel didn’t come to the salon often, but she took care of the behind-the-scenes managerial side of things.

Raya was a master with more trendier haircuts and elaborate updos, so her clients tended to be younger. Lori was their nail technician, masseuse, and makeup artist. Quinley helped out Adaline where necessary by washing clients’ hair when she wasn’t otherwise busy. As a team, they made it work.

“Hey, you,” greeted Adaline. “How’s mated life?”

“The same as it was half an hour ago, when I replied to the text in which you asked that exact question,” said Quinley.

Lounging on the padded swivel chair at her station, Raya looked up from her phone. “She just worries. About you, that is. Me, she couldn’t give two fucks about.”

“That’s not true,” Adaline objected. “I care. I just don’t need to worry about you, because you have Lori.”

“And Quinley nowhas Isaiah.”

“I don’t know him well enough to be sure he’ll properly take care of her.”

Raya jerked up her chin in challenge. “Just admit that she’s your favorite.”

Rolling her eyes, Quinley let the quarrel become background noise as she crossed the space. She said a quick hi to Lori, who was pottering around the hair washing station. Black leather chairs reclined toward the row of sinks behind them. Cubbies were stacked with burgundy towels and hair products.

She headed through an arch and to the pamper room on her left. The scents of herbal shampoo, fur, chlorine, and almond oil greeted her, familiar and comforting. She placed her purse in its usual spot in a corner cubby and hooked her coat on a wall hanger.

The large space was fitted with a grooming station, jacuzzi, leather swivel chair, supply cart, and a desk on which a heated lamp and other equipment rested. Different shifter breeds required different “luxuries,” and she strived to cater for all.

Before long, clients began to trickle in. They were quick to notice her brand, especially her ex-pride mates. They nosily asked for details about Isaiah, the claiming, and the Olympus Pride. As always, Quinley was stingy with her answers.

Throughout the day, Isaiah popped into her mind often. Mostly because her cat wanted to know where he was and what he was doing. It left them both with a vague feeling of uneasiness that had no real rational source. It was just all tied-in to being bound to someone whom she hadn’t yet imprinted on. It messed with your mind on an elemental level.

As such, she was grateful when the end of her workday rolled around. The sooner she got home, let her cat see for herself that he was alive—and, yes, gave herself that same assurance—she’d feel a whole lot better.

“Right, I’m off,” she told her sisters and Lori, who were all gathering their stuff together.

Raya lifted her hand in a brief wave. “Later, sis.”

“See you tomorrow,” Lori called out.

“Say hi to—” Adaline cut off as her eyes darted to something behind Quinley.

In the process of zipping up her coat, Quinley turned … just as a tall figure pushed open the glass door. Her cat hissed, her hackles rising.

Zaire breezed inside, his face neutral, his body tense, a strange energy coming off him. His eyes locked on hers, and something flickered in their depths she couldn’t quite name. He slowly planted his feet, his jaw tightening.

It was straight up weird being this close to him, having his attention so firmly on her. It hadn’t happened since the night she’d tried to make him see what he’d refused to even consider.

He cleared his throat. “No one told me you were planning to enter an arranged mating.” The words were low. Stiff. Emotionless.

She shrugged. “I guess they thought there’d be no need. It’s not like we were ever friends or anything.” Her cat thought him insane for thinking anyone should tell him anything that related to Quinley—he’d lost the right to know.

“True, but I’m due to be made Alpha soon. Harlan has been keeping me apprised of all pride business so I can slot more easily into the position when the time comes. This, though, this he kept quiet.” There was a distinct bite to Zaire’s voice that said he was not pleased to have been kept out of the loop.

“Maybe he thought it wasn’t something you needed to be made aware of, considering he knew I’d be gone from the pride before you ascended.”

“And you wanted to be gone because of me, didn’t you?” Not a question, but rather a tightly spoken statement. “You wanted to be away from me.” There was a sort of rueful resignation in his words.

God, she did not want to have this conversation. Really, what would be the point anyway? “I think you should go.”

He arched a brow. “Do you now?”

“Nazra wouldn’t like that you’re here.”

He grunted. “Since when do you care what she likes?”

“Since when do you not?”

He looked away, his lips flattening.

“I don’t know why you came—”

“Because I shouldn’t give a shit that some random pride member recently mated, right?” he clipped, his gaze flying back to hers. “No, I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t care that, having transferred to another pride, she won’t be under my protection or within my reach. But then, you’re not a random member, are you?”

She went still, and she sensed her sisters and Lori do the same.

A smile of self-derision curled his mouth. “I fought that knowledge for a while. What you said to me all those years ago … it was true, wasn’t it?”

Yes, but there was no sense in saying so. Their chance to mate had passed. “It was a crush.”

“Now, that was what I kept telling myself. Whenever doubts nipped at me, I squashed them. The times I found myself deliberately seeking you out, I dismissed them. And any curiosity my cat felt about you, well, I just plain ignored it. But then I heard you were mated, and that kind of ripped off my blinders.” He clearly wasn’t happy about that; missed the bliss of ignorance. “What you claimed is true.”

Quinley sighed. “It doesn’t matter either way. We’re both mated to other people. Both happy.”

“Happy?” he echoed, his brows snapping together. “You don’t even know the cat you mated. He’s a fucking stranger to you.”

She blinked, taken aback by the vehemence in his voice.

He took a step closer. “If you were really intent on an arranged mating, you could have chosen someone you knew. Do you know how rare it is for two shifters to imprint on one another when they have no foundations on which to build? You’ve practically set yourself up to fail.”

Quinley inched up her chin. “I don’t believe that.”

“You didn’t care who you mated, did you? So long as you were away from me, you weren’t bothered.”

Quinley frowned. “I wanted to be out of the pride before you and Nazra ascended, yes. But it wasn’t the reason I took a mate.” She’d done that for herself. “I could have transferred somewhere else without doing that. You’re flattering yourself a little too much here.”

His eyes dropped to her neck. “Did you let him brand you?” He reached out as if to move her coat collar aside.

Quinley jerked away from his hand. “That’s none of your business.”

“You did, didn’t you?” His nostrils flared. “For shit’s sake. If this mating goes tits up, you’ll forever wear his mark.”

And this was his business how?“I don’t plan for it to go tits up. But if that happened, it’d be my problem. It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

His expression tightened. “Just because I didn’t claim you doesn’t mean it’ll be okay with me if you’re unhappy.”

“It never bothered you before,” she couldn’t help but snipe.

“Because I didn’t before know what I know now.”

“And you think that having such an epiphany means you get to seek me out? That you get to come here and express your thoughts on my decisions or actions?”

Unreal.

Her positively enraged cat honestly wanted to claw his eyes out. “You have no say in what I do or don’t do, Zaire. Your thoughts on it don’t matter. You have a mate. Concern yourself with her. I don’t need to hear what you think or feel about anything.”

Quinley skirted around him, careful not to let her body brush his, and pulled open the door.

“Must feel good,” he said, his tone a taunt.

She glanced back at him. “What?”

“Being able to walk away from me like I once did you.”

“That you’d think I’m so bitterly bitchy just goes to show you know nothing about me.” Silently asking the universe to at some point throw him in a nest of fire ants, Quinley strode out of the salon.

“Idon’t think I’ve ever seen you this edgy,” said Deke.

Dragging his gaze away from the neighbors bickering at the opposite side of the cul-de-sac, Isaiah looked at his fellow enforcer. “What?”

“You’re antsy,” said Deke, his hip propped against the lamppost. “So much so that just seeing two of our pride mates having one of their usual petty squabbles is putting you on high alert.”

Tate nodded. “You’ve been like this all day, and it’s only gotten worse as the hours went on.”

Isaiah sighed. He was antsy. Had been since the moment Quinley drove off earlier this morning. And even knowing she’d soon be home wasn’t improving his mood.

“If you’re finding it uncomfortable to be out of contact with your little black-foot, that’s normal,” said Deke. “You two have no imprint bond, so there’ll be an insecurity there that translates into a restless overprotectiveness. I experienced it with Bailey. Is your cat feeling just as edgy?”

Isaiah dipped his chin. “He doesn’t like that she’s out of his sight. He doesn’t fully view her as his mate, but she’s still on his mind.”

“Which is what you wanted, right?” Tate checked. “You wanted for his mind to be off … someone else.”

“Yes. It’s a good thing. Just unexpected.” And hard to get a handle on.

“Did you brand each other?” asked Deke.

Again, Isaiah nodded. “I don’t think he would otherwise have acknowledged her as ours. Right now, he mostly just feels protective of her.”

Tate cocked his head. “Any regrets on your part? The arrangement went through so fast I worried you’d later wish you’d taken it slow.”

“None,” Isaiah told him. “Everything’s going as well as can be expected.” He rubbed at his jaw. “It’s stupid that I didn’t see just how well a submissive would fit me. It’s like something’s clicked into place. Hard to explain.”

“I get it,” said Tate. “I had dominant females in my life before Havana, but none were a born-alpha. I needed that in a way I didn’t see. And when I had it, things just felt right on a level they hadn’t before. It bodes well for you and Quinley.”

Deke pushed away from the lamppost. “I never pictured you with someone small. You could just tuck her in your back pocket and carry her around.”

“I’d probably feel less anxious if I did,” Isaiah muttered.

Tate’s mouth bowed up. “That’ll settle once you imprint.”

“Maybe it would have been better to have waited before you branded her,” Deke mused. “You wouldn’t have felt so edgy while waiting for a bond to form.”

Isaiah frowned. “No, it was—” Cutting himself off as a shadow loomed over them, he jerked his head up. A mega large bird was swooping down at them fast.

No, at Isaiah.

He ducked down as he lurched to the side. Too late. Talons dug into his shoulders and heaved him off the ground like he weighed nothing.

Then they were zooming through the air.

Hissing at the painful dig of talons, his cat in an absolute fury, Isaiah unsheathed his claws and stabbed upward—ramming them deep into the harpy eagle’s stomach. It screeched, the sound piercing. He raked and stabbed and squirmed.

The avian shifter dropped him with a pained shriek.

Dropped him right into incoming traffic.

Horns beeped and tires screeched as he hit the asphalt hard. Bones cracked, and his breath left his lungs in a whoosh.A massive impact crashed into him, sending him rolling into his stomach.

He lay there, breathing hard—his head swimming, his heart pounding, his whole body hurting, his blood tainting the air, his cat going insane.

He was pretty sure fine bones in his spine were broken, and one of his legs was definitely fucked up. His skull … Jesus, he’d be surprised if it wasn’t fractured, given the agony pounding through it.

Footsteps thundered toward him, and then Deke crouched at his side. “Motherfucking fucker.”

“Get Helena now,” Tate yelled to … someone—Isaiah couldn’t see who. “Sorry, but this is gonna hurt.”

Isaiah’s vision flashed black as his Alpha and Deke scooped him up off the ground—the movement pulled at every injury, causing severe pain to rack his body. They carried him to the sidewalk, where they carefully set him down.

Within moments, pride mates gathered around him in a tight circle that protected him from any human eyes. They verbally fussed over Isaiah, assuring him that the healer would be soon with him.

They weren’t wrong.

Helena appeared fast, her eyes glinting with dismay as she touched his leg. Healing energy crackled through him, shooting to every wound—reknitting skin, mending fractures, fixing breaks, making the pain gradually fade.

Isaiah sat upright and gave her a nod of thanks. He peered up at the sky, seeing nothing but gray clouds. “That attack I hadn’t seen coming.” Which pissed him off, but how could he have foreseen it, for Christ’s sake?

“The harpy eagle shifter had to have been a member of the Vercetti Pack,” said Deke as they both stood. “Though I doubt their plan was to throw you onto the road—the brothers would want to kill you themselves to avenge Samuele, not leave you to the mercy of traffic.”

“The eagle was likely supposed to take you somewhere,” hedged Tate. “You obviously proved to be too difficult for them to cart off, so they improvised.”

And, in doing so, failed to kill him.

“Let’s get you back to the cul-de-sac,” said Tate. “You’re gonna have to pretend to still be badly injured, just in case humans are watching.”

It galled Isaiah, but he allowed it to look as though both the Alpha and Deke were helping him walk. Their gathering of pride mates stayed close, still doing their best to obstruct the view of nosy observers.

It was only when they were in the cul-de-sac that Tate and Deke released him. Isaiah walked toward his house on his own steam, reaching the driveway just as a car pulled up behind his own.

Quinley slipped out of it, her expression darkening as she took a good look at him. His injuries might be healed, but his clothes were dirty, ragged, and stained with blood. “What happened?” she asked, hurrying to his side. “Why is there blood on you?”

“I’m all right,” he assured her, his cat’s anger not quite easing back at the sight of her but losing some of its heat. “Helena healed me.”

Her eyes flashed. “But you were obviously injured, which is not all right,” she said, her voice tight. “What happened?”

Isaiah had to admit he liked that she worried. “Easy,” he soothed, stroking her arm. “To sum up, I was picked up by a harpy eagle and thrown into the road.”

She blinked. “You were what?”