“Really?” I blurted. Mike saw me as a threat? “Why?”

“Raul chose us over you for a decade. His decision to claim you now could—will—change things. A lot.”

“How so?” I eagerly pressed. What did he mean Raul had chosen them over me for a decade?

“How not is more like it,” he griped. “Women always change everything.”

“Uh … yeah—for the better.”

Tiago showed up with a plate of vegetables and a steak the size of my head.

“You can threaten to blow up all of San Francisco,” I told Mike, “but I’m not eating even half of that.”

Mike chuckled. Tiago looked confused, but his dimples came out nonetheless to share in the joke he didn’t get before excusing himself again.

“Hey, I’m famished; where’s my steak?” Jorge asked from across the room, giving me a look that said he was hungry for more than steak.

I angled my body toward Mike as Jorge sauntered over to us. Jorge had made a point earlier of mentioning to me how much he’d enjoyed holding me down at the club last night—and that he was looking forward to the next time. He was probably at least partially responsible for Raul freaking out and biting my thigh to stake his “claim.” I’d barely refrained from making an immature gagging gesture in the face of Jorge’s comment before. Why wasn’t Raul back yet?

“May I be of assistance?” Jorge offered, looking from me to the steak. “I overheard something about a forced feeding.”

Dick. “I’m good. Thanks.” I had to wonder how many of the guys had overheard my conversation with Mike—on purpose or inadvertently—given their supernatural hearing abilities.

He grinned and pulled up a barstool. “Mind if I stay and watch how good?” Jorge spoke with a slight Spanish accent—which might’ve sounded sexy had it not been ruined by the fact he was obviously a complete pig.

“If you’re that bored, who am I to stop you?”

Jorge laughed. “You’re right, Mike. She is fun.” His gaze roamed from my face to my chest. “And gorgeous.”

“Back off, Jorge.”

Jorge’s grin didn’t falter at Mike’s sharp tone. “Just trying to get to know the pack’s new queen, Mike.” His eyes returned to my face as he said to Mike, “You and Tiago have been hogging her most of the evening. Why don’t you go play with your seer for a while? You’re running out of time to hit that before we have to kill her, you know.”

Charming. Despite my aversion to violence, I really hoped Jorge was one of those quiet Gabe supporters on Mike’s list to weed out and kill.

“That hasn’t been determined.” Mike’s voice was cold.

Jorge’s gaze shifted to Mike, affording me a much-needed reprieve from his lascivious staring. “Oh, no? Thought I heard Stephen say—”

“You heard wrong.”

As much as I hated diverting Jorge’s attention back to me, the rising tension between the two wolves had piqued my curiosity. Raul and the guys had been talking about killing a seer when I’d first awakened on the plane. Thinking back on it, I realized it had probably been Jorge’s voice I’d heard suggesting the seer was “low-hanging fruit, ripe for the picking.”

“Seer?” I asked. “As in a psychic?”

“There another kind?” Jorge’s smirk shifted to me.

“Don’t know, Jorge. They didn’t cover the occult in med school. And my mom never let me call Miss Cleo’s hotline like I wanted to for my seventh birthday.”

Lance busted out laughing from the other side of the room. “Miss Cleo!” he exclaimed with a snort. “Call me now.” He mimicked the late television psychic’s phony Jamaican accent.

Grinning, I turned and gave Lance a nod of acknowledgement. I’d had a feeling that werewolf—or werelock, rather—was American. When I looked back to Jorge, I was even more delighted to note the smirk had been wiped from his face. He didn’t like being left out of a joke, apparently.

“So, what’s the reason you’re lobbying to kill this seer woman?” I raised a brow at him. “Is she a fraud? Did she give you a bad tarot card reading?”

“No.” His mouth twisted with disdain. “We need something from her werelock lover’s pack. Something that involves you, if you want to know the—”

“Enough,” Stephen’s irate voice cut Jorge off as he came through the arched doorway and into the dining area. Several more long strides brought him to the bar next to us, where I was most surprised to find Stephen’s scowl of disapproval directed at Mike rather than at Jorge as he said, “What are you doing? Why would you let him sit here with Bethany and—”

“I was just about to stop him.”

Stephen appeared unconvinced. “Bullshit. You wanted her to know—”

“She’s going to know soon enough anyway. We’ve only a matter of days before—”

“I think it’s time for Bethy to retire,” Tiago interjected. His sweet voice suddenly sounded commanding—and he was pushing his way forward, shouldering Stephen out of his way, to get to me.

“Don’t call her Bethy,” Jorge scolded him. “Only Raul can call her that.”

Tiago’s fingers wrapped around my bicep, gentle but firm as he pulled me from my seat. “My apologies,” he said to me, before saying to the others, “It’s time for Bethany to retire.”

“My steak,” I mumbled in protest, not knowing what to think or say as Tiago began dragging me away. None of the others made a move to stop him.

What was going on? Which one of them was in charge? I had assumed that Mike was in command in Raul’s absence based on how he’d been acting, but now that didn’t seem to be the case.

“I’ll send your food to your room,” Tiago assured me as he led me from the bar and down the narrow hallway to the airplane’s master suite that had been designated as my bedroom.

As the door clicked shut behind us, I took in Tiago’s tall, broad frame blocking it, and my heart began to race.

Tiago probably heard it, too, because he said, “You know I won’t harm you. Don’t you?”

I didn’t really know anything anymore, but I nodded in agreement to appease him just the same. “Of course.” Please let that be the case.

“You’re lying,” he called me straight out. “We can scent lies, Bethany. So I wouldn’t advise continuing to lie to any of us. Particularly Raul. Understood?”

Oh, my God. A rush of heat hit my cheeks. I suddenly felt dizzy; short of breath and claustrophobic trapped in this fancy bedroom suite with Tiago—whom I’d previously identified as the sweet, safe werelock aboard the plane. Where did that leave me now?

“Where’s Raul?” I demanded. “I need to speak with him.”

“Raul’s been delayed.”

“Why? Delayed where? Stephen’s been back for over an hour.” I had no idea what time it was or how long it’d actually been, but it felt like Stephen had been back for a while now, and I was anxious for Raul to return right this second. “When will Raul be back?”

“Calm down. Everything’s going to be fine.” He took several steps toward me, but stopped when I took retreating ones. “Raul is with Sloane. She had a nightmare.”

“Who?”

“Sloane. The special-needs child Raul mannies for.”

“Wait—he’s really a manny?”

“Yes.” Tiago’s dimples returned momentarily. “In a way.”

I rolled my eyes. “So I can’t lie, but no one else is capable of a straight answer around here?”

“Bethany, I’d like you to get washed up and ready for bed.” A directive, framed as a request, as he tilted his head in the direction of the suite’s bathroom.

“Okay,” I acquiesced. “I will. But I’d like for you to leave this room first.”

He shook his head. “You have twenty minutes; then I wash you myself.”

For a split second, I thought about screaming for help. But who on this jet did I really want rushing to my aid? Mike—the grouchy werelock dropping threats and talking about “disciplining” me? Creepy Jorge? Grape-smuggler Stephen? None of the monsters I’d met stood out as closet good guys.

New tactic. “You just got through explaining to me what it means to have a true mate. You told me Raul claimed me—for eternity. You really think your Alpha would be okay with you forcing yourself on me in the shower? That he wouldn’t—”

“Whoa!” Tiago’s eyes went wide. He held his hand up. “What are you talking about?”

“You just said you were going to wash me.”

“Exactly. Wash you. Not rape you in the shower.” His features screwed up, giving me a look like I was the demented one for jumping to unsavory assumptions amid my kidnapping predicament. “I was just going to clean your face with a warm cloth … make sure you brushed your teeth …”

A fresh wave of embarrassment overcame me. I refused to feel like the asshole about this. “Well, how am I supposed to know that? I’ve got wolves staring at my tits, commenting on my Kegel muscles, tossing around jokes about holding me down while their leader eats me out again. Pretty sure all the guys on this plane are convinced I’m an exhibitionist because they either witnessed firsthand or heard about my night of public club sex with Raul.”

“You are an exhibitionist.”

“Excuse me?”

“I didn’t stutter.”

“I am no—”

“And I’m gay, Bethany.”

My open mouth shut.

His dimples reappeared. “You have sixteen minutes left.”