CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER TWO

Bree stilled. In all the years since it happened, he’d never brought up the kiss. Never. Neither had she, because she’d known he regretted it.

“Oh, that,” she said airily, determined to play it cool.

He blinked. “Oh. That?”

Well, to be fair, it wasn’t a big deal—they hadn’t been the only people who’d indulged in a few stolen kisses that night. It had been her eighteenth birthday party. Most of the pride had been shitfaced. She’d caught Alex watching her. The more he drank, the less subtle he’d been about it. Shortly after she’d finished a slow dance with another guy, Alex had discretely dragged her into a dark corner and closed his mouth over hers.

“Why didn’t you ever tell anyone?” he asked.

Well, she’d been horribly embarrassed that he shoved her away afterward like she was on fire. Elle knew about it, though, since she’d caught them. But he didn’t need to know that.

“It didn’t seem relevant,” replied Bree.

“It didn’t seem relevant?” he echoed, affronted.

She forced a casual shrug. “It was just a kiss.”

“It was more than a kiss. I distinctly remember you riding my thigh until you came. Or did you forget that part?”

“No, I didn’t forget. I also didn’t forget how fast you disappeared afterward. Oh, and there was the pushing-me-away part, like I’d thrown myself at you or something.”

“You were only eighteen. Far too young for the things I had in mind.” His eyes darkened. Heated. Flashed with something that made her stomach twist. “I wanted to flip up the little dress you were wearing, shove my cock inside you, and fuck you against the wall until you screamed for me.”

“Really? How vanilla of you.”

Surprise flitted across his face.

He’d expected her to, what, blush and stammer and avert her gaze? Bree sighed. “Look, we all do crazy stuff when we’re smashed—”

“You think I was blitzed that night? If that were the case, you would have spent the rest of that party with my come inside you.”

She really wished her feminine parts would stop tingling every time he said stuff like that. She blamed that deep, gritty voice—it was seduction itself. “That’s assuming I would have let it get that far.”

“Oh, that’s exactly what would have happened if I had been plastered that night, baby girl—don’t think differently. You still make that husky little noise right before you come?”

“Probably.” She folded her arms. “Is there a reason we’re reminiscing about something you like to pretend didn’t happen? Of course, I understand why you like to keep the memory in a locked box at the back of your mind. I mean, how else are you going to keep convincing yourself that I’m just family to you?”

Clenching his teeth, he lowered his head so that their mouths were mere inches apart. “You want me to say it? You want me to admit that I’ve jacked off to the thought of fucking you more times than I can count?” His nostrils flared. “I want you. I want to feel your pussy wrapped around my dick. I want to watch you explode while I’m buried deep inside you. There. I said it.”

It took her hungover mind a few seconds to really digest his words. When the import of them finally hit her, she almost rocked back on her heels. The fuck? There was no denying that it had been a super weird day so far.

Her engines would have been well and truly revved at the sound of his rumbly confession if it wasn’t for one thing: he clearly resented that he wanted her. Nice. “You’ll never do anything about it, though, will you?”

He clenched his teeth again. “One night in your bed wouldn’t cut it for me. I’d want more. I’d take more.”

Her heart leaped. “More” could mean a lot of things—a fuck-buddy arrangement, a short but intense fling, or even something serious. Each of those possibilities sounded intriguing to her, but apparently not to him, because …“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“I’ve seen you with guys, Bree. You always have them securely wrapped around your little finger while you lead them on a merry dance—it’s not something you set out to do, they just tend to give you your own way. Me? I won’t be led anywhere by anyone, and I definitely don’t fucking dance. You’ve never been involved with one of my kind, but you’ve seen how we are in relationships—doesn’t matter if it’s casual or serious, we don’t make easy partners. The things a man like me would demand of you … You’re not ready for something like that.”

Oh, now that made her bristle. She looked him square in the eye. “The person who’s not ready is you.” Bree calmly spun on her heel and walked out of the office.

Outside the store, she briskly strode down the busy street, passing cart vendors, a crowded bus stop, narrow alleyways, and many of the pride-owned businesses. Usually, she found the scents that filtered out of the various shops somewhat uplifting—especially those of baked goods, fresh flowers, and coffee beans. Not today. Because she was super ticked off.

If there was one thing that never failed to ruffle her fur, it was having someone tell her what her limits were. So having that asshole presumptuously proclaim she wasn’t “ready” for what he’d want from her … God, she should have just slapped him.

Not that he’d been exaggerating when he said that wolverines could be demanding in relationships. They were difficult creatures in general. When it came to their partners, they took intrusive, pushy, territorial, and domineering to a whole other level. The only thing more demanding than a wolverine-partner was a wolverine-mate.

They were drifters by nature. They didn’t stay in one place for long or stay with one partner for long. Only the pull of their mate anchored them.

They gave everything of themselves to their mate. Which sounded great. Until you considered just what it meant to be a wolverine’s anchor. They didn’t like being apart from their mate at all. They literally became their damn shadow—an unreasonably protective and uber-possessive shadow who’d adore every hair on their mate’s head while driving them insane.

In that sense, wolverines got along best with people pleasers. But, as her late father had often grumbled, Bree had not been put on this Earth to please. She also hadn’t been put on the Earth to own other people’s shit, and she wouldn’t own Alex’s shit either. He was holding back because he wasn’t ready for a relationship. Which wasn’t a surprise since, as a rule, wolverines tended to avoid them. They didn’t like to be tied down.

What happened with Freya might even have exacerbated his commitment issues—she didn’t know. She never would know, because he’d made it clear that he wouldn’t act on what he wanted. Well, that was just fine—she was too pissed with him right now to care.

The traffic noises faded as she turned into the cozy cul-de-sac. Just looking at her house with its turrets, steel-pitched roof, cute porch, and glass-stained windows usually made any tension seep from her muscles. But not this time, because one of her pride mates, Benny, was sitting on her doorstep. She occasionally came home to find someone waiting for her, hoping to talk. Such was the life of an omega.

She inwardly groaned. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to help him. She just didn’t trust that she could help. And lowering her shields was never fun.

Some pride mates came to Bree on a weekly basis, treating her as their own personal therapist. Others just turned up occasionally. Some even asked her to use an additional aspect of her gift. Hearing people’s thoughts when tapping into their emotions wasn’t the only thing that set her apart from the other omegas. Whereas they could only extract energy from people, Bree could push spurts of calming energy into a person, giving them a sense of peace. But since she could just as easily send negative energy into them, it wasn’t an ability people trusted.

For a long time, most of her pride mates went to either Dani or one of the other four omegas for help. But lately, more of them had been seeking out Bree. It was pissing Dani off in a major way, but there was little either of them could do about it. Bree couldn’t turn people away—she wasn’t that much of a bitch. Most of the time.

Boxing up her Alex-induced internal mess, she invited Benny inside her home and led him into the kitchen. A good omega like Dani would feed him cookies, settle him on the sofa, and maybe throw on some relaxing music while she clucked and fussed like a mother hen.

Bree dug the tequila out of the kitchen cupboard, gestured for the enforcer to take a seat at the island, and then poured them both a glass. Yeah, she was gonna need one, too. Not a lot made her more nervous than the pressure of giving advice or comfort.

“So, what’s up?” she asked Benny.

He shifted on his stool. “I’ve never been to see an omega before. It always seemed kind of weak to me to have your emotions taken from you instead of just facing what you feel.”

“Sometimes, people don’t know how they really feel about something, because their perceptions are colored by anger or other blinding emotions. By clearing their system of that negative energy, I give them clarity of mind. Those emotions will return if they have any depth to them, but they often don’t, because once a person’s perception is no longer clouded, it frees them of all the bullshit. But I don’t have to read you or extract emotion from you. We can just talk. And drink shots—that part’s important for me. Anything you tell me will remain confidential.”

“Even from the other omegas?”

“If that’s what you want, yes, of course.”

He took a deep breath. “Okay.”

“Good. Now, why don’t you start by telling me why you decided to come here and shit all over the peaceful evening I had planned?”

He barked a nervous laugh and then chugged down his shot. “Okay, here goes … I broke up with Renee.”

No surprise there. The guy was a serial dater. He treated women with respect, showered them with gifts, and lavished them with attention. But as soon as a hint of emotion came into play, he severed the relationship without hesitation.

“I didn’t want to, but I did it anyway,” he went on, setting his glass back on the island. “We had a huge row, and she said some stuff that … well, it hurt, you know? And now her father is gunning for me, and it’s possible I’ll lose my job, since I work for her grandmother. Look, I can agree that I’m a bastard, but she’s wrong in saying that I’m scared of commitment. I’m not. Am I?” He didn’t sound so sure.

It really didn’t take a psychologist to work out his problem, but it was so easy to be blind to one’s own issues. “I can give you my opinion, but if your thoughts aren’t straight, you might not be able to see where I’m coming from. You might just get defensive and walk out.”

“So do your thing. Give me that clarity of mind you were talking about before.”

Bree reached out and rested her hand on his. “You sure?” At his nod, she lowered her shields. Instantly, the varying emotional energies zapped her.

Confusion. Despondency. Self-pity. Agitation.

She gritted her teeth as they punched their way inside her, giving her sharp stabbing pains in the left side of her chest, a burning sensation in her throat, and the sour taste of acid on her tongue. Worst of all was the feel of words being scrawled in her mind as snippets of his thoughts drifted to her.

… hate having to do this …

… need another drink …

… think this is working …

Her heartburn-like pain faded, and she slammed her shields back up, not daring to read more than his surface emotions. Delving further into the “emotional heart” of a person could be dangerous, because it would mean she’d feel the energy of every single emotion at their most vivid. The vibrations of the energies would be like a shock of electricity to her core. A shock so powerful it could even lead to cardiac arrest. No, thank you.

The lines that had furrowed Benny’s brow smoothed out. He rolled back his shoulders and took a long breath, centering himself.

“Feel better?” she asked.

He nodded. “My mind feels less crowded.”

Good, because he’d be more open to her opinion. “You want to know what I really think, or do you want a ‘there, there’ pat on the back while I tell you everything will work itself out in time? Be sure.”

“I want an honest opinion. That’s why I came to you.”

“Okay.” She poured more tequila into both their glasses. “I believe you’re right; I believe you’re not scared of commitment. I think you’re scared of committing to the wrong person. Scared of making the same mistake as your uncle. He almost imprinted on someone who betrayed him and then broke his heart. It ate at him, hardened him, gave him trust issues.

“Other women came along, but he always pushed them away. He’s with someone now, sure, but they haven’t imprinted on each other. And it’s easy for anyone to see that he ‘settled’ for what he could get. His relationship is one of convenience. Both he and the woman he’s seeing would rather be in a half-assed relationship than be alone. You don’t want to suffer that same fate, right?”

Benny nodded. “Right. The woman he almost imprinted on … what she did fucked up his life.”

“Not quite. She hurt him, but she didn’t make him choose to pull back from everyone. In that sense, he fucked up his life. She just fucked up. There’s a difference. But, back to you. I can understand why you wouldn’t want to let women close when you’re worried about committing to the wrong one. But if you go on as you are and don’t take the risk of letting someone in, you’ll grow old alone. Or you’ll do the very thing you seem so desperate to avoid—you’ll ‘settle’ for someone you don’t love just so that you don’t have to be alone.”

He lapsed into a thoughtful silence. “Huh.”

“In other words, pull your head out of your ass and get your shit together.” She winced. “That didn’t come out right. What I meant to say—”

“No, you’re right.” He knocked back the second shot of tequila and slipped off his stool. “You’re absolutely right.” The side of his mouth curled slightly. “Thanks for that, Bree.” He walked out.

She sighed, feeling like slapping herself. “Pull your head out of your ass and get your shit together?” She shook her head. “God, I suck at this.” She downed her second shot and then poured herself another. Why not?

The bell above the door chimed as his paternal grandmother pulled it open. The antique store had closed twenty minutes ago, but Alex had known she’d still be hanging around. As he stepped inside, dozens of scents slithered over him. Wood polish. Rich leather. Old, musty cloth. Lemongrass air freshener.

His beast shook his fur, his nose twitching in irritation. Like Alex, the animal was still smarting from Bree’s departing comment.

He’d no doubt hurt her pride when he declared she wasn’t ready for the kind of relationship he’d want, but it was true. She was only twenty-four. She’d had a string of short, casual relationships, but nothing that would come close to what he’d demand of her. In a few years, though—

She might have mated with someone else.

He shut down that train of thought fast.

Ingrid beamed at him. “Well if it isn’t my favorite grandson,” she said as the door closed behind him, blocking out the street noise and replacing it with that of old music, a phone ringing, and several clocks ticking out of sync. “Give your Grams a hug.”

Alex wasn’t a hugger—he wasn’t a tactile person at all really, which was unusual for a shifter—but he obliged her. With her vintage clothes, antique jewelry, and her hair styled into an old-fashioned updo, she fit right in with the store. She managed it for Vinnie, choosing to ignore that her son often smuggled money via the antiques.

“You call all your grandsons your favorite,” Alex pointed out as he broke the hug.

“Well, you all are. But I do have a soft spot for you.”

“That’s something else you say to us all.”

Cackling, Ingrid patted his upper arm. “I take it you’re here to see my Vinnie. He’s upstairs with Tate and Luke,” she added, referring to the Alpha’s oldest sons. “Go on up.”

Alex stalked down the slim aisle, passing antique furnishings, oil paintings, gilded mirrors, and a grandfather clock. There were also smaller items—many of which sat on table displays—such as china dishware, porcelain dolls, old lamps, and cigar boxes.

A quick jog up a narrow staircase took him into Vinnie’s apartment. Vinnie’s mate and four children had lived there with him at one time. But the Alpha female died a long time ago. Surviving the breaking of the mating bond was no small thing, but Vinnie had gotten through it—something Alex would always respect him for.

Tate, Luke, and Elle had all moved into the pride’s apartment complexes. Only Vinnie’s youngest son, Damian, lived with him now.

Following the sounds of voices, Alex headed into the kitchen. Vinnie and Luke sat at the dining table while Tate leaned against the counter. All looked at Alex as he entered.

“I heard you were back,” said Vinnie, gesturing for Alex to sit opposite him. “Good trip?”

Taking a seat, Alex replied, “Fine.”

“Oh please, tell me more.” Vinnie snickered. “What brings you here?”

“Hyenas.”

The Alpha’s gaze sharpened. “Hyenas?”

“I take it Bree hasn’t called you yet. Three of them circled her in the middle of the street this morning.” Which got his blood boiling every time he thought about it. “They didn’t say what clan they were from. One introduced himself as John Jones, which I’m guessing is a false name. Unless you know of a hyena with that name?”

Vinnie shook his head, lips pursed. “I’ll make some calls and look into it. Did she tell you what they looked like?”

“No, but Mila did.” After rattling off the very thorough descriptions that his sister had given him, Alex asked, “Any of them sound familiar?”

“Not even a little.” Vinnie’s gaze danced from Tate to Luke. “What about you two?”

“The descriptions don’t ring any bells for me,” replied Luke, the pride’s Head Enforcer.

Tate, who was Beta of the pride, shook his head in the negative. “But I’ll keep a lookout for them from here on out.” His gaze cut to Alex. “What did they want?”

“To speak with Paxton,” replied Alex.

Vinnie’s brows flew up. “I see. I’m guessing she told them he was dead.”

“She did.” Alex wasn’t sure if she truly believed that or if she just needed to believe it. Fuck, he hoped the guy was dead—it would be easier on her that way.

Alex doubted the twisted piece of shit would ever have hurt her. She was probably the only person on the planet who was safe from Paxton. But she deserved better. Far better. And no one should have to bear the weight of keeping someone like Paxton stable.

It was true that people changed when they mated—they calmed, softened, steadied. He’d seen it happen. He’d seen stone-cold men find peace and suddenly feelemotions that Alex would never have thought them capable of experiencing. But Paxton wasn’t someone whose life experiences had taken a toll on him and shaped him into what he was. He’d never been normal. He’d just gotten very good at pretending to be.

Alex couldn’t imagine what a mind-fuck it would be to know that your true mate—the person who was meant to love you and make you feel whole—was such a sick son of a bitch. Bree could have become bitter. Resentful. Cynical. She could have spent her life raging at fate. She hadn’t. She’d point blank refused to let the matter define her.

“The hyenas seem convinced he’s alive,” Alex went on, “so I’m not so sure they’ll just slink away. It really all depends on how badly they want to contact him.”

“Anyone who’d seek out someone like Paxton can’t be good news,” said Vinnie. “He was bad right down to the bone. Even when he was a kid, it was obvious that something was missing in him. He never played or laughed. He just watched—all quiet and subdued. Does Bree have any idea at all what the hyenas want with him?”

“They didn’t say. I guess it’s possible he wronged them in some way, or maybe they want to hire him to get rid of someone. He was, after all, very good at killing.”

Vinnie rubbed at his jaw. “Do you think Paxton could be out there somewhere?”

Alex shrugged. “I can’t think why he’d drop off the radar—he’d need money to survive, so it makes no sense that we’d hear nothing about him if he is alive.”

“Lone shifters are vulnerable to attack,” Tate cut in. “But Paxton always had a strong sense of self-preservation. What do you think?” he asked his brother.

Luke shrugged. “I think he would have surfaced by now if he was alive, even if it was just to contact Bree, his parents, or siblings.”

“We don’t know that he hasn’t contacted his family,” said Alex. “If he asked them not to say so, they wouldn’t. Only Bree would have said something—she has no time for him.”

Luke conceded that with a tilt of his head. “We should ask the Cages if any hyenas have approached them. It makes sense that they’d try to speak with Paxton’s relatives.”

Alex slid his gaze back to his uncle. “I want to be informed immediately if the hyenas are seen around here again. I told Bree to call me if she sees them. But she’s more likely to call you just to be contrary.”

Vinnie tipped his head to the side. “You do realize she can take care of herself, don’t you? Neither she nor her cat have ever lost a fight—they’re both merciless little scrappers. She also has some omega tricks up her sleeve.”

True. Just as omegas were able to extract a person’s emotions, they could also amplify those emotions, causing said person debilitating psychic pain—an ability they were only permitted to use in self-defense. “That doesn’t change that she’s under my protection,” said Alex. “So if she does contact you about the hyenas, or if you hear from someone else that the assholes are close, I want to know about it.”

Vinnie regarded him in silence. “All right. But be assured that we won’t let anything happen to her. She’s family to us. Plus, she’s good at keeping Elle out of jail. I need her around for that alone.”

Alex gave a satisfied nod. “Do you know what caused the rift between Bree and Mateo?”

Vinnie shook his head. “She doesn’t seem to have told anyone what happened—not even Elle. I did push Bree to tell me, but she wouldn’t.”

“She wouldn’t tell me either.”

“To be fair, she’s not obliged to. I’m her Alpha, but that doesn’t give me the right to know every detail of her life. You, well, you’re just the cousin of a mate she’ll never claim, so it’s no more your business than it is mine.”

His beast growled at that. Alex felt a muscle in his cheek tick. His uncle stared at him, daring him to argue; daring him to admit that Bree meant something to him. Vinnie saw far more than others did. It was one of the things that made him a great Alpha.

Rather than play his uncle’s game and give him the satisfaction of a response, Alex pushed to his feet. “Remember to call me if the hyenas show.” Ignoring his cousins’ probing stares, he headed out the kitchen, made his way downstairs, and then left the store.

Alex walked down the busy street, heading toward the barbershop. As he approached the place, the smell of spicy aftershaves swept over him. The shop stayed open later than most other businesses on the street, but it was due to close soon.

Through the large window, he could see that Mila was cleaning her station while her coworker, Evander, stocked shelves and her boss, Archie, talked with none other than Mateo.

The moment Alex pushed open the door and stepped inside, Mila looked up. She smiled and said, “Wow, you respected my wish for you to visit me like a normal person rather than turning up at my bedroom just to mess with me. Careful or I’ll think you might be starting to like me or something.”

“You tried to kill me while we were in the womb—how could I ever like you?”

Her mouth tightened. “I don’t know why you insist on claiming I did that. We were babies, for God’s sake.”

“Mom says I came out of the womb bruised. I believe her.”

She propped her hands on her hips. “Even if I had hurt you, which is highly unlikely, it doesn’t mean I tried to kill you.”

Alex shrugged. “Whatever you say, Skindiana Jones.”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Stop starving yourself. Seriously, how can someone who once gave birth to twins be all skin and bones? Makes no sense to me.”

Her nostrils flared. “Was there something you wanted, shithead?”

“The vein in your head to pop.”

Just then, a tall blond male came strolling out of the rear of the barbershop. Dominic nodded, his mouth curving into his usual easy smile. “Hey, Alex.”

Alex merely tipped his chin. Before he’d met Mila, the wolf had been the ultimate ladies’ man who, for some odd reason, used cheesy lines on every mated female he met—risking his life in the process. Now, he only used those lines on Mila.

Alex didn’t like many people, but it was impossible not to like Dominic.

Two young children, bickering like crazy, trailed after their father. The little girl hissed in her twin brother’s face, who then growled in hers.

“Ah, such a heart-warming sight,” said Alex.

Emilia’s head snapped toward him, making her dark curls bounce. Her eyes went wide. “Uncle Alex!” She dashed over to him, giggling when he scooped her up.

He didn’t like kids much, but his niece and nephew? They were the shit. “Why do you have sugar in your hair?”

“Long story,” the pallas kit replied. Which basically meant she didn’t want to tell him.

Alex looked down at his nephew, who was holding his tablet close to his chest. “I like your new haircut, Dillon.”

“You should put her down before she bites you,” the wolf pup advised. “Or ask a vet to do it.”

Emilia hissed. “Daddy, the mongrel’s saying I need to be put down again!”

“So,” Alex cut in before the siblings could argue further.“What’ve you been up to while I was gone, Em?”

“Driving my brother slowly insane.”

“It’s good to have goals.”

Mila gasped. “Alex!”

He rolled his eyes but said sternly to his niece, “You should be nice to your brother. And Dillon, you should be nice to your sister.” Alex gave his own sister a “There, satisfied?” look.

“You’re not nice to Mommy,” Emilia pointed out.

“She tried to kill me in the womb.”

Mila snarled. “I did not do that.”

“But you did once try to bury him alive,” Dillon said to her. “Uncle Isaak told me,” he added, referring to one of Valentina’s brothers.

Mila took a deep breath and then looked from one child to the other, her face strangely tranquil. “What is the all-important lesson that Mommy taught you so you could survive in this family?”

“All wolverines lie,” both kids said in unison.

She beamed at them. “That’s right.” Mila sliced her gaze back to Alex, her smile shrinking. “Now, is there a reason you’re here other than to irritate me?”

Alex set a wriggling Emilia on the floor, who then started climbing Evander like he was a tree. “I thought you might want to know what the hyenas wanted with Bree.” Alex relayed what the female pallas cat had told him in his office.

“I should have gone out there and chased them off,” said Mila.

“Wouldn’t have made any difference.” Alex turned to Dominic and described the hyenas. “They sound familiar to you?”

The wolf shook his head. “Never met a hyena named John Jones, either. But I’ll pass on what happened to my pack mates and see if they know anything.”

Seeing that Mateo was deep in conversation with Archie, Alex leaned into his sister and spoke only loud enough for her and Dominic to hear. “You had any luck prying out of Mateo what he and Bree argued about?”

“He wouldn’t say,” Mila replied just as quietly. “He’s been very close-lipped about it.” She sighed. “He looks so sad, doesn’t he?”

He did. Even as the twins—always a riot—talked with him, each tilt of Mateo’s lips was forced, and every chuckle was weak.

“I don’t know if I should feel bad for him or not,” Mila went on. “I mean, I don’t like to see him look so miserable. But Bree wouldn’t have cut him off without a good reason, which begs the question … what did he do?”

Yeah, just what had he done? Because if it was anything truly bad, Alex would pummel the bastard into the fucking ground.

When Mateo turned to say his goodbyes, Alex said, “I was talking to Bree earlier. You came up in our conversation.”

Mateo’s eyes briefly flickered with something. Unease, maybe? “I did?”

“Yeah. I asked why she’s shut you out, but she wouldn’t say.” And if Alex didn’t know any better, he’d think Mateo looked relieved by that.

“You should try talking to her,” Mila told him.

Mateo’s gaze dropped to the floor. “She won’t take my calls.”

“Then go see her,” Mila advised. “You know where she lives.”

“Maybe I will.” Mateo forced yet another wan smile. “I’ll see you all soon.” He practically scurried out of the shop.

Archie sighed. “Something is eating at him.” He looked at Alex. “Maybe you could speak to Bree about it and find out what happened.”

“I tried,” Alex told him. “She wouldn’t say.”

“I can’t understand why they’d both be so secretive about it,” said Archie.

Neither could Alex.

“You’re such a loser!” Dillon yelled at Emilia, who snatched his tablet and then ran, laughing like a loon. With a battle cry worthy of a highlander, Dillon chased her into the break room.

Mila sighed. “It never stops. Never.”

“Ah, don’t get stressed, baby.” Dominic curled an arm around his mate and pulled her close. “On another subject, does my tongue taste funny to you?”

Mila groaned. “Seriously, will you always be so weird?”

“Most likely,” said Dominic. “Hey, don’t get all frowny. How about we play a game later to cheer you up? We haven’t tried ‘The Tiger and the Tiger Tamer’ yet. All you need to do is open your mouth wide, and I’ll feed you the meat. I promise it’ll be fun.”

Mila planted her palm in her mate’s face and shoved him back.

Dominic laughed and drew her back to him. “I’ve got a better idea of what we could do tonight.” He whispered something into her ear that made her blush.

“Not freaking happening, GQ,” she said.

“Oh, come on—you could just imagine that it’s hair serum or something.”

“God, you are hopeless.”

“Yeah, I know.”

As the elevator doors of his apartment complex slid open, Alex sighed. A familiar figure was sitting outside the front door of his apartment. It was a sight he’d found several times before leaving for his trip. Hell, he’d only been back home a few hours and she’d already showed up. He was tired of this shit.

She got to her feet, gaunt and frail-looking. The layers of makeup couldn’t fully hide the dark circles under her eyes, or the lines of sadness etched into her face. “Hi, Alex. I heard you were back.”

Crossing to the door, he sighed again. “You shouldn’t be here, Drina.”

“I just wanted to see you.”

No, she wanted someone to help ease the loneliness plaguing her. He couldn’t blame her for that. He also couldn’t help with it.

They’d had a short fling nine months ago. When she’d pushed for more, he’d ended it—just as he’d warned her that he would, since he wasn’t looking for anything permanent. Soon after that, she’d started dating one of their pride mates, Giles. The couple had grown so close they’d imprinted on each other after only two months—it happened like that sometimes.

Imprinting was unpredictable and poorly understood. Some speculated it would only happen if the building blocks for a mating were there, like trust, protectiveness, tenderness, and loyalty. It could begin after only a few weeks, but sometimes it took a lot longer.

Unlike with mating bonds, imprint bonds weren’t irrevocable. Drina and Giles’ bond had only been in its early stages when, for a reason neither of them had shared, the imprinting process had begun to reverse itself. And then the partial bond broke completely.

As typical in such cases, she and Giles had both been suffering from headaches and depression. Drina had repeatedly turned up at Alex’s apartment, wanting to come inside; wanting to “talk.” Which basically meant she wanted to fuck. He’d turned her away again and again, but she wasn’t deterred.

“I told you not to come back here,” he reminded her.

“I just want to talk.”

“No, you don’t. And if you did, I’d be the last person you’d come to.” He wasn’t exactly Mr. Sensitive, and empathy wasn’t his strong point.

“That’s not true. You’re a good listener. You don’t judge.”

Oh, he totally judged. He was an asshole that way. “If you really want to talk to someone, go see one of the omegas.”

She frowned. “I don’t want pity. I don’t want someone to pat me on the head and tell me that everything will be fine in time.”

“Not all of them would do that.”

She snorted. “I’m not going to Bree, if she’s who you’re thinking of. Everyone knows she can’t be trusted.”

Alex bit back a growl, and his beast flexed his claws. Some members of the pride didn’t trust Bree, sure that someone couldn’t be predestined for a twisted person like Paxton unless they were like him. That was pure bullshit. It was well-known that true mates balanced each other out. Paxton felt absolutely nothing; Bree felt too much.

Alex fished his keys out of his pocket. “Go home.”

Drina continued to bar the door. “Just let me come inside.”

“So that I’ll fuck you? Make you forget?”

She flinched. “You make it sound like I’d be using you. Like you’d be anyone to me. You know I care about you.”

Which was even more of a reason to turn her away. Right now, she was looking to fill a void. It would be easy for her to get attached. “Go, Drina.”

“I won’t push for more than sex this time.”

Yes, she would. She was desperate to settle down and start a family. Most female shifters took a mate while in their mid to late twenties. Drina was thirty-five, and she was beginning to panic that she’d never find her true mate or anyone she cared enough for to fully imprint on.

“Come on, I’m offering you the very thing you want—uncomplicated sex,” she said, a bitter note to her voice. “We were good together. You know we were. Would a repeat really be so bad?”

God, it was like fucking Groundhog Day. They’d had pretty much this exact conversation several times—she was not hearing him.

Alex pinned her gaze with his. “This is the last time I’ll say this, Drina. We will not be having the occasional fuck whenever you’re in the mood, or even a for-old-time’s-sake-one-night-stand. So go look for what you want from someone else. I can’t give it to you. I don’t want to. If you turn up here again, I’m just going to walk right past you as if you’re not even there.” He wasn’t kidding.

Alex gently nudged her aside, unlocked his door, walked into the apartment, and kicked the door shut. His beast’s hackles lowered; the animal shook his body to settle his fur.

Alex shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it on the sofa. Mila and his mother had decorated his apartment for him, determined that it wouldn’t look like a tacky or sterile bachelor pad. He’d let them have free reign on the décor because he didn’t give much of a shit. They’d done a good job. It was modern and stylish with a red, black, and gray color scheme. There was lots of gloss and leather and marble.

He headed into his kitchen, set up the coffee maker, and then switched it on. He pulled a mug out of the cupboard, stilling when he saw it was the cup that Bree had given him one Christmas. It had a picture of a wolverine on it, along with the quote: “I am Satan’s Spirit Animal.”

Her words whispered into his mind …

The person who’s not ready is you.

Biting out a curse, Alex returned the mug to the cupboard, slammed the door shut, and then switched off the coffee maker. He stalked toward the bathroom. He needed a fucking shower.