CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Two months later

Havana felt her brow crease. “So, her problem with me is simply that I’m a devil shifter?” she asked, speaking over the loud music.

“It’s not really a case of shifter-breed prejudice,” said Jaime, the Phoenix Pack’s Beta female. “Greta’s an equal opportunist when it comes to hating people—she detests most of the population pretty much equally.”

“Ah.” The old woman had been shooting death glares at Havana all evening, and she was getting on her inner devil’s last nerve. “She seems to get along well with Ingrid, though.”

“Greta thinks pallas cats are much like her,” began Dante, Jaime’s mate, “so she has a lot more tolerance for them.”

The woman sounded like a complete basket case to Havana, but whatever. She sipped from her neon-colored cocktail. As it was tradition for the pride to hold celebratory events at the Tavern, everyone had gathered there for the afterparty of her and Tate’s mating ceremony.

Beneath the blasting music was the sounds of laughing, talking, bottles clinking, and dancers cheering. She and Tate were “doing the rounds,” speaking with various guests and thanking them for coming—hence why they were currently talking with the Phoenix Pack Betas and two of the pack’s wolves, Trick and Frankie.

Looking at Havana, Jaime tilted her head. “You don’t give off the ‘I’m an Alpha, fear my wrath’ vibe, but my wolf can sense how strong your animal is. My beast is stuck between respecting that strength and being a little unnerved by it.”

“From what I’ve observed,” began Tate, curling his arm around Havana’s waist, “her devil seems to have that effect on a lot of people’s inner animals.”

Havana felt her lips twitch. “Including yours?”

“My cat’s not unnerved by your strength,” said Tate. “He finds it a turn-on.”

She lifted one shoulder. “I can live with that.”

Dante took a swig from his beer bottle. “I’ll bet you’re both relieved that the whole Gideon business is behind you.”

“Very much so,” said Havana. Especially since the loners who were sold in past auctions had all been returned home.

“It seemed to take forever to track him down,” Tate grumbled.

Adjusting the position of the little boy balanced on his hip, Trick said, “Yeah, but you played it right—you didn’t waste time or resources on guesses, you didn’t let your emotions get in the way. You remained careful and patient during the hunt, and it paid off. As they often say, slow and steady wins the race.”

Frankie’s brows drew together. “I can’t say I’ve ever seen a slow Olympic runner win a race.”

Trick’s eyelid twitched. “Oh my God, Frankie, it’s just a—”

“Turn of phrase, yada, yada,” the she-wolf finished, rolling her eyes. “We’ve been over this; proverbs are plain dumb.”

“Dumb,” echoed their son, who then squeezed his father’s nose hard with an impish chuckle.

Noticing his aunt trying to get his attention, Tate gently squeezed Havana’s hip. “Valentina’s waving us over.” He turned to the Phoenix wolves. “I appreciate you all coming.”

Jaime smiled. “Thank you for inviting us.”

“Enjoy the rest of your night,” Havana told them.

Leading his mate toward the corner table where Valentina, James, Mila, and Dominic were gathered, Tate was careful to stop Havana from being jostled as they shrugged through the tight crowds.

Valentina gave them air kisses and pretty much ordered them to sit. Exchanging hellos with the other shifters at the table, Tate and Havana took the two empty seats.

“Having a good night so far?” asked James.

“Oh, yeah,” said Havana. “Pallas cats are nothing if not entertaining.”

James smiled. “True enough. I’ve noticed that you seem to get along well with Vinnie, Luke, Elle, and Damian.”

“I do,” she said. “I mean, what’s not to like about them?”

Valentina huffed. “Do not get me started on Vinnie. The man is useless. Too weak to be pallas cat. You know I despise weakness. It is good that Tate took over our pride.”

Tate felt his lips twitch, and he noticed James roll his eyes. Vinnie was anything but weak. Still, there’d be no convincing Valentina differently, so no one even tried anymore.

James pointed at Havana. “Don’t take for granted that you’ve blended well into Tate’s family. I can’t boast the same. Valentina’s dysfunctional relatives will never accept me.” He didn’t sound too bothered by that, though.

Valentina rounded on him. “Perhaps if you did not call my mother ‘Skeletor’—”

“It’s just a pet name,” said James.

“—and my father her ‘man-slave’—”

“That’s just a statement of fact.”

“—they would be inclined to accept you. And my family is not dysfunctional.”

“You think it’s normal that your mother once gagged and bound your father to the bed in their spare room because she ‘wanted a little peace and quiet’?”

“It was just role play. She freed him after two days.”

“Oh, well, then it’s okay.”

Struggling to hold in a laugh, Dominic smiled at Havana and Tate. “You two look so loved up I’d find it nauseating if I wasn’t the same with my mate.” He looked at Havana, adding, “Mila was my first, you know. She took my virginity.” Everyone snorted, but Dominic ignored them. “She wasn’t so keen on having me at first, but who can resist an offer of ten solid inches of warmth, love, and understanding?”

Mila sighed at Havana. “I know what you’re asking yourself. And yes, he is always this weird.”

Dominic peered down at Mila. “But you can’t say I don’t make a good mate, baby.” He slid his gaze back to Havana. “I treat her like my homework. Toss her on the table and spend all night doing her.”

Mila lifted a hand. “That’s it, you don’t get to talk to other people anymore.”

As the couple quarreled, Tate looked at Havana and said, “Apparently, he used to spout cheesy lines at every woman he met. Some think it’s a mental disorder, but they’re not sure.”

After talking with his relatives a little longer, Tate and Havana thanked them for coming. They then went back to strolling around the Tavern, mingling and accepting people’s well wishes. Soon, they were approaching the bar where Vinnie, Luke, Elle, Alex, and Bree stood.

Vinnie looked from Havana to Tate, his eyes dancing. “The mating ceremony was … interesting.”

Havana raised her hands. “I wasn’t laughing because I wasn’t taking it seriously. I heard Bailey fart, and then she and Aspen got into a whispered dispute about whether farting in public was rude. I could hear it the whole time, and it just set me off. I did apologize to Tate.”

“And I do forgive you,” Tate told her. He put his mouth to her ear and whispered, “But you’ll still pay for that later when we’re in bed.” He smiled at her little shiver.

Hearing a lot of rhythmic hissing, Tate turned to see a bunch of shifters in their mink form dancing and hissing in tune with the song. His inner cat scrunched up his face.

“I didn’t know minks were into Freddie Mercury,” said Havana.

“They’re certainly into this song, since if what I heard is true, they’ve been known to hiss Another One Bites the Dust during battle,” said Tate. And that wasn’t weird at all, was it?

The only mink who’d been officially invited to the party had been Casey, a Mercury Pack member. When her friends had heard about the celebration, they’d asked to come along.

It had been a great night so far but, cranky about having to share his mate’s attention, his cat wanted to leave. Honestly, Tate would like to take her home and spend the rest of the night celebrating their mating in style. But one of the setbacks of being Alpha was that he couldn’t do as other couples often did and escape their party early. He had to “set an example” and be sure to thank all the other Alpha pairs for being present.

Holding a paper plate piled with food from the buffet table, Alex said, “Go, Tate, take your mate and have some time alone with her—it’s obvious you want to. No one will judge you for it.”

Bree snorted at the wolverine. “You’re just saying that because if they leave early, it won’t look so awful if you leave early.”

Alex appeared genuinely perplexed. “You’re clearly forgetting it means nothing to me if people would find me ‘awful’ for leaving. My opinion matters. Your opinion matters. Anyone else? I could give less of a fuck what they think.”

“Now you’re being rude,” said Bree.

Alex shrugged. “I don’t care.”

Just then, Jessie and Farrell approached. The female beamed and said, “Congratulations on your mating.”

“Aw, thank you.” Havana smiled at the tiny baby in the Head Enforcer’s arms. “I don’t know how he’s sleeping through all this noise.”

“He seems to sleep better when there’s noise,” said Jessie.

Havana put her hands together as if in prayer. “Can I have a hold?”

“Sure,” said Farrell, who then carefully placed the baby in her arms.

Watching his mate cradle the newborn, Tate felt his chest tighten. He wanted that. Wanted them to start their own family one day. Wanted to see her holding their child. “How’s fatherhood?” he asked Farrell.

The male cat grinned. “The best. And exhausting, but worth it.”

Tate had arranged for Deke to temporarily replace Farrell as one of Tate’s bodyguards, wanting the Head Enforcer to have plenty of time to spend at home with his mate and newborn baby boy.

At first, Tate had wanted both Deke and Isaiah to continue shadowing Havana, but she’d fought him on it every step of the way, refusing to have added protection when she simply didn’t need it. She had, however, agreed to keep the car with the bulletproof windows. Mostly because she couldn’t argue that Vinnie’s enemies might strike at him via her or Tate.

The music changed again, but the minks didn’t leave the dance floor. Tate twisted his mouth as he watched them. “So, minks like the conga too, huh?”

“As does Bailey, apparently,” said Luke.

So it would seem. The female mamba was actually leading the line, looking in her element. A little girl with ruby red hair was at the rear, having the time of her life—the daughter of Casey and Eli, the Mercury Pack’s Head Enforcer. Her slightly older brother stood off to the side, shaking his head at her.

Elle chuckled. “Bailey is a riot. I just love her. Oh, she’s dragging Damian into the conga line. And he’s letting her. Someone should really warn her that she’s dancing with the son of Satan.”

Vinnie flicked his daughter an exasperated look. “Elle, you’ve got to let it go.”

The redhead’s lips thinned. “He painted satanic symbols on my front door.”

“Probably because you painted crucifixes on his bedroom door,” said Vinnie.

Elle threw up her arms. “How else can we combat his evil?”

Still cradling the baby, Havana looked at Luke. “Hey, how’s your left hand?”

The Beta’s brow creased. “My hand?”

“Yeah,” she replied. “Is it sore or anything?”

Luke slid Tate a confused glance before shaking his head. “No, it’s fine,” he told her.

Havana frowned. “Oh. Okay.”

Feeling his mouth quirk, Tate leaned into her. “You almost sound disappointed.”

“Not disappointed,” she said. “Just surprised. The universe warned me that something would happen to his hand. I don’t get why he’s fine.”

“I do. It’s because the universe doesn’t warn us.” But Tate still found it endearing that she believed differently.

“Come on, even you have to admit the signs are there. The movie Cool Hand Luke popped up as a new title on my streaming service, I saw a novel in the bookstore yesterday with that exact same title, and a song called Left Hand Luke played on the radio this morning.”

“I think it’s a coincidence. Nothing more.”

She sniffed. “There’s no helping you. There really isn’t.”

At that moment, Aspen sidled over with Camden close behind her. After cooing and awing over the baby, the bearcat said, “Bailey’s certainly popular with the minks. You have to admire her ability to blend into whatever social circle she enters. Not that she’s always welcome for long, since she can’t help but stir shit. Still …”

Camden looked at Tate. “Not sure if you know, but those two wolves look like they’re about to throw down. Well, the youngest doesn’t seem all that pissed. But the older one is getting all worked up.”

“Yeah, they do that often,” said Tate. “Nick, who’s the Alpha male of the Mercury Pack, doesn’t like that the son of the Phoenix Pack Alphas hangs with Nick’s daughter a lot. The two males regularly get into stare-outs, but they never take it further.”

Aspen tipped her chin toward Corbin and Dawn. “Those two are so cute together.”

“Totally,” agreed Havana. “I’ll be surprised if they don’t imprint on each other. Corbin’s absolutely gone for her.”

Luke smirked at Tate. “Kind of like you’re gone for Havana. Or ‘whipped’ might be a better word. Kidding, no need to growl.” He clapped Tate on the back. “Happy for you, bro. You might have tried to kill me several times over the years, but I still got nothing but love for you.” Luke sighed when Tate didn’t speak. “You’re supposed to return the sentiment.”

“You want me to lie to you?” asked Tate.

Luke rolled his eyes. “I know you love me.”

“Funny. You once accused me of hating your guts with a pathological passion.”

“You broke my leg in two places! And you did it because I went into your room without knocking first.”

“You missed out the part where you peed all over my shoes while you were in there.”

“I only did that because you tried to drown me for the third time.”

Tate shrugged. “They say ‘third time’s a charm,’ so I figured it was worth a shot.”

“Come on,” Havana cut in, tugging on Tate’s shirt. “Let’s go thank some more people before you and your brother get into a full-blown argument.” She returned the sleeping baby to Farrell.

She and Tate spent over another hour circling the Tavern and dishing out their thanks.

When they’d finally done their rounds and the night was coming to a close, Tate grazed her ear with his lips as he said, “Don’t know about you, but I’m ready to get out of here.”

“Sounds good to me,” she said.

Luke and Deke escorted them home, but Tate dismissed them the moment he and Havana stepped into the house. He then crossed to his mate, who was hanging up her jacket. Once she’d kicked off her shoes, he pulled her flush against him. “It’s been hours since I had a taste of that mouth. Open for me.”

Her nose wrinkled. “Not really feeling in the mood. Too tired.”

He felt one corner of his mouth kick up, knowing she was playing with him. “I’ll bet I could get you in the mood.”

“I don’t think that’ll happen.”

He backed her into the wall. “I accept your challenge.” He dropped to his knees, hiked up her dress, and pressed a kiss to a bite mark he’d left on her inner thigh. He had a very vivid memory of branding her there just before he’d flipped her over and claimed her ass. It was an experience he intended to repeat, but not tonight.

He caught the waistband of her panties and dragged them down her legs. “I’ve wanted to do that since the moment you pulled them on. I also wanted to do this.” He hooked one of her legs over his shoulder, spread her plump folds, and took a long lick.

Havana slammed her palms on the wall behind her as he began to eat her out. He didn’t tease. He feasted. Every erotic flick of his tongue, every scrape of his teeth, and every suckle on her clit wrenched moan after moan out of her.

She arched into his mouth, wanting more. He thrust his tongue deeper, giving her what she needed. The tension inside her built and built until she was hanging on the edge of a momentous orgasm. Her knees buckled. Her thighs tremored. Her face flushed.

She slipped her fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp. He growled. The guttural sound rumbled against her flesh and vibrated up her pussy. And she came, her back bowed, her claws slicing out and digging into the wall.

Breathing heavily, she looked down at Tate. Licking his wet lips, he stared up at her, his eyes glittering. Even on his knees, he looked dominant, in charge, and fully in control. The latter made her devil bristle. No, he didn’t have that control. Not yet.

Havana slowly pulled back the leg he’d hooked over his shoulder. She rested her foot against his chest … and shoved him hard enough to give her room to escape. She ran. Her feet pounded on the stairs as she rocketed up them, egged on by her cat, conscious of him pursuing her.

Hands grabbed her hips as Tate pulled her to a halt halfway up the stairs. He covered her body with his, forcing her to her knees. She hissed and writhed and tried bucking him off. But he slipped one arm beneath her and banded it diagonally across her body to grip her shoulder, holding her securely in place. Still, she fought him. He let her, pressing soft kisses and gentle suckling little bites to her nape … acting for all the world like her struggles simply weren’t on his radar.

Havana slapped the stair in front of her. “You motherfucking motherfucker.”

“That wasn’t very nice.” He roughly plunged two fingers inside her, shocking the breath right out of her. “I’m not saying it ain’t true, but it wasn’t nice.” He pulled back his hand, spread his fingers inside her, and drove them deep. “Now you’re going to be still while I have my way. That understood?”

“Uh, no.” She lunged, meaning to escape again, but his grip on her shoulder kept her exactly where he wanted her. Which pissed her off even as it turned her on. All that strength and power … yeah, it pushed all her best buttons. Still, she growled and struggled.

“Yeah, fight me, baby.”

She did. Even as he fucked her with his fingers, she fought to be free. But it wasn’t long before her body betrayed her and got swept away by the feel of his fingers swirling and plunging and scissoring. She kept one hand planted on the stair in front of her while reaching back her other arm to curve her free hand around his nape.

“Yield, baby, and I’ll give you what you need.”

Havana let her body relax beneath him, as if the fight had drained out of her.

He hummed, sliding his arm out from beneath her to cup her hip. “Good girl.”

No, she wasn’t a good girl. And forgetting that was his mistake.

Tate swore as she fled. One moment his fingers were buried inside her, the next she was rushing up the rest of the stairs. He followed, hot on her heels. In the bedroom, she dashed around to the opposite side of the bed. They stared at each other, panting, tense, each waiting for the other to move.

He feigned right. She leaped onto the bed, ran across it, and jumped. He caught her midair and, ignoring her punches and kicks, set her on the floor near the wardrobe. He roughly turned her to face the mirrored door, plastered his front against her back, and curled his arm tight around her. “Tricky little bitch, aren’t you?” He kicked her legs apart and thrust his rock-hard cock inside her.

“Fuck.” The word popped out of her as she instinctively shot out her hands, bracing herself against the wardrobe.

Tate clawed off her dress. “Now you’ll watch me take you,” he growled into her ear, “so you remember you can’t keep this pussy from me.”

He pounded into her body, sensing her surrender, relishing that she’d yielded control to him.

She was pure liquid heat around him, holding his dick in the snuggest grip. In the most perfect grip, because she was tailor-made for him in every way. Other men might have been in her bed, but she hadn’t been created for them, hadn’t existed purely for them. She was Tate’s. Always had been. Always would be.

He hadn’t lied when he told her that being inside her brought him peace. It did. It also brought out his most primitive instincts. The instincts to fuck, claim, possess, own. He wanted to crawl so deep inside her he’d never find his way out.

Moaning, she began shoving back her hips to meet his thrusts. He fucked her harder, loving the perfect view he had, thanks to the mirror in front of him—her eyes glazed, her skin flushed, her tits bouncing, her nipples tight.

“You look even more beautiful when you’re taking my cock.” He slid one hand from her hip to her breast and squeezed it, his grip nothing short of proprietary. “Touch your clit.”

“That’s sort of your job.” Havana gasped as he pinched her nipple, and the pain shot straight to her clit.

“Do it.” He dragged his blunt nails up her inner thigh. “Suddenly feeling shy?”He took her hand and used her finger to rub at her clit.

Oh, God. The damn cat knew what she liked, and he used her own finger to give it to her. Shit, she was so close. His breath hot on her neck, his fingertips digging into her hips, his cock slicing into her again and again … It was all too much, but her orgasm remained out of reach.

Needing to come, she said what she knew would make his self-control crumble into pieces. “I love you.”

He hissed out a curse, and then he was jackhammering into her in that way she loved. She reveled in it, pushed back to meet each thrust, kept on working her clit. He fisted her hair, wrenched her head back, and bit her throat.

Like that, she imploded.

Her release washed over her, so damn intense her knees buckled. His teeth sank deeper into her neck as he rammed into her again and again and again … And then he was spilling himself into her.

Her legs like jelly, she had to lean back against Tate just to say upright.

He nuzzled the fresh bite. “Love you too, baby.” Locking eyes with her through the mirror, he wrapped his arms around her. “Always will.”

“That’s because I’m awesome.”

His mouth quirked. “Not telling me anything I don’t already know.”

She chuckled. “I need to go clean up.”

Enjoying holding her while looking his fill, Tate very reluctantly withdrew his softening cock and then released her. As she disappeared into the bathroom, he began shedding his clothes. By the time she’d returned, he was naked and lying on the bed. His heartbeat still hadn’t calmed, but the panting had passed.

“Did you enjoy the ceremony?” he asked.

“Yup. And the afterparty.” She took fresh panties and a long tee out of the dresser. “You?”

“Well, there was you, our families, food, music, and our pride mates. So, yeah, it was a good night. Thank you for not ending it with a barfight.”

Dressed, she smiled. “I’ll be honest, it wasn’t easy.”

“I liked watching you hold Jessie and Farrell’s baby,” he said as she sprawled over his chest. “I’m looking forward to us having our own, but I’m in no rush.” He slid his hand under her tee and slipped it into her panties to palm her ass. “I like having you all to myself. I’m not so good at sharing you. Neither is my cat. He likes having all your attention, so he wasn’t happy at the party.”

“I know, my devil sensed it. She found it amusing.”

“Oh, she did?” Tate lifted his head to nip her lower lip, trying not to smile at the cranky face his cat pulled. “She’s often amused at his expense.”

“Well, he is kind of spoiled. As are you. You both always seem so confused when you’re not getting what you want.”

“We have what we want: You.” He took her mouth in a slow, shallow, lazy kiss, feeling so fucking full. Of her, of joy, of peace.

What he felt for Havana … fuck, it was so all-consuming and bottomless he could drown in it. She was his world. Filled him up, made him whole, soothed every hurt he’d ever felt. She was imprinted on his soul and embedded so deep inside him he’d never get her out, which was exactly how he wanted it. “You know you’re everything to me, don’t you?”

“Sure I do. Just as you know you’re everything to—”

There was a loud bang downstairs followed by a familiar hiss that was quickly overrode by a bearcat-yowl.

Tate felt his jaw go hard. “They are not here. They’re not.”

Havana sucked in her lips to hide a smile.

“I warned them we wanted to be alone tonight,” he said.

“Which, in their crazy minds, was the equivalent of daring them to come here.”

“Will you two stop!” a voice bellowed. Luke.

Tate gritted his teeth. “He’s not here either. He’s just not.”

Luke cursed long and loud. “For God’s sake, let the damn mamba go before you—ow, get your teeth out of my fucking hand!”

Tate narrowed his eyes as amusement and smugness rippled down the mating bond. Unfuckingreal.

Havana gave him a little smirk. “I told you the universe—”

“No. Just no.”