CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Kenny dabbed his mouth with a napkin and then wiped his fingers. Smiling, he leaned back in his chair and gestured from him to her. “This is nice, isn’t it?”
No, it wasn’t. Gwen just looked at him. It was the first time that he’d spoken since they’d chosen a table. They’d eaten in silence as customers chattered, oven timers beeped, cutlery clattered, and frothing machines whirred.
The bell repeatedly chimed as more and more people filed in. It was a busy place. Despite the long line to the register, the stainless-steel counter and bistro tables were always clean and clear of crumbs. Kenny had wanted them to meet at a local, upscale restaurant, but Gwen had declined. Instead, she’d chosen this bakery-slash-coffeehouse.
She loved the scents here—bitter coffee, donuts, fresh bread, and the various baked goods kept within the glass case. Any other time, she would have dived on her Danish and enjoyed it with relish, but she’d only managed to eat half—and it sat like lead in her stomach.
It was harder than she’d thought it would be to sit opposite the man in front of her and pretend she had no idea that he was an absolute monster who sponsored extremists. How Geena managed to be around him each and every day, Gwen didn’t know. But then, Geena saw something different when she looked at Kenny. She saw a father, her father. Gwen just saw a twisted asshole.
As he’d carefully eaten his apple pie like it was a rare delicacy, she’d studied him. She’d seen Kenny several times before, of course, though mostly from afar. There’d even been times when he’d come to the trailer to speak with Hanna. The first time he’d come, Hanna had afterward said dispassionately, “That was your dad, by the way.”
Gwen didn’t like that she had his eyes, but she was thankful they didn’t otherwise look alike. Tall and muscular, he seemed in pretty good shape for his age. His narrow face was shaven and carried scars that said he’d led a rough life. His stylishly cropped short dark hair was thin and dusted with gray; it kind of worked for him. Add in the tailored suit, and he looked more like an average businessman than a seedy, conscienceless drug dealer.
Two of his friends sat at the table adjacent to theirs. Zander and the other Mercury wolves were sitting at a corner table, subtly keeping an eye on her. She didn’t think Kenny was aware that they were there, or that he’d recognize them if they earned his attention. Despite the large distance between the wolves and Gwen, she was quite sure that the shifters would overhear her conversation with Kenny easily enough.
“Your mother’s mad that I’m meeting you today.” He crumpled up his napkin and set it on his empty plate. “She thinks we should leave you to have a good life.”
Officially abandoning her Danish, Gwen picked up the porcelain mug and sipped at her milky latte. A little powdered sugar still clung to her fingertips. The tiny napkins were shit. “I came here today because you said you had something important to tell me. You said it was about Geena.” He’d said what he thought would make Gwen meet him—she knew that. Still, she needed to play the game or he’d know that Geena had warned her.
“I may have lied about that.” The cell phone on the table chimed. He tapped the screen with his finger, quieting the device. His phone hadn’t stopped ringing since he’d arrived, but he canceled the call each time—giving her a pointed look that said this meeting was more important to him. Whatever.
“So, what do you want?”
He managed to look offended. “Is there something so terrible about a man wanting to know his daughter? I thought it was about time we finally met officially.” He picked up his mug. He was drinking iced tea, of all things—she hadn’t expected that. “Geena’s been better since making contact with you. Less mercurial. More composed and efficient. I like that. It made me curious about you.”
Not curious enough for him to get in touch until he wanted something, though.
“I recently learned that you and one of my acquaintances have mutual friends. The Moores. They’re not happy bunnies right now.”
Good. “They’re also not my friends.”
“Yes, I heard that you’re not too fond of the boy, Brandt, after stumbling upon him in a rather tricky situation. But you know, there are two sides to every story.”
“Shame Brandt’s a prick in both of them.”
His mouth curved. “If he’s anything like his father, who I’ve heard plenty about, then he is a prick and probably always will be. But he’s also the son of a friend’s friend.” Kenny sipped his iced tea. “You know, I’m confused. According to Geena, you’re an intelligent girl. So why would you stand up for a shifter and, in doing so, vilify your own kind? And don’t give me something about it being the right thing to do. Ethics don’t keep people alive. Smarts keep people alive. And me, well, I’d rather you were alive.”
Pissed that he’d pretend to care about her, she set down her mug and leaned forward. “Let’s just be honest, shall we? You don’t want me in your life. I don’t want you in mine. You’re not a faithful friend to your friend of the Moores or to anyone else. In fact, you probably fuck people over so often that you have to carry lube in your pocket. If you want me to back off, it must benefit you in some way—I don’t care what it is. The point is that you haven’t done a single thing for me in my entire life, so give me one good reason why I should do a damn thing for you.”
His eyes narrowed, but they sparkled with amusement and . . . approval. He gave her a slow smile. “Interesting. You have spine. I expected you to be more like your mother. It’s nice that you and I have something in common, don’t you think?”
No, she didn’t.
“I did do something for you, Gwen. I did what your neighbors didn’t have the balls to do—I called Social Services.”
She almost drew back. “You’re lying.” She’d always wondered who’d called them, but she’d never once considered that it could have been him.
“What went on in that trailer . . . It wasn’t a good environment for you to grow up in.” His voice took on a haughty, judgmental tone. “I warned your mother that I’d take steps to have you taken from her if she didn’t get rid of that useless excuse of a human being. She should have put you first.”
“But you didn’t want me either, so what makes you better than her?”
“It was nothing personal, Gwen. I don’t like kids.”
Well, she didn’t like drug dealers.
“I didn’t want my kid growing up around that shit. You’d have ended up just like Hanna. Weak. Dramatic. Self-pitying.” He shook his head in disgust. “I got you out of there.”
“Which could have been a case of tossing me from the frying pan into the fire—foster care is no walk in the park for most people. Sometimes it’s worse than where they came from.”
“Ah, but you went to a good family. I saw to that.” He smiled at her start of surprise. “Money talks, Gwen. Always has. Always will.”
She wanted him to be lying. She really, really did. Otherwise, she’d have to be at least a little grateful to him for her ending up with the Millers. Gwen didn’t want to be grateful to him for anything.
“There’s nothing glamorous about your life, Gwen, but it was a good one, for the most part. You have a job, a family, friends.” He drained his cup and put it down. “So, you see, you were wrong in saying I’ve never done a single thing for you. I took care of you in my way. Granted, I did it from afar, but I still did it. I’ve never walked into your life, asking anything of you, but now I am. I’m asking you to do this one little thing for me and just alter your statement. Tell some sweet little lies for Brandt. From what I’ve heard about him, he doesn’t need you to ruin his life—he’ll manage that all by himself.”
She narrowed her eyes. “How do I know you’re not just saying that you called Social Services so I’ll feel that I owe you?”
“I suppose you don’t. But you could always check with Social Services. I never made any secret of my interest in being sure you were placed somewhere safe. I also didn’t call them anonymously. My name and my involvement should be on record.”
She slowly sank back into her chair. “So you want me to cower before the Moores as a thank-you to you for getting me out of that trailer?”
He pursed his lips. “Well, it would be nice if you did it for me purely because I’m your father, but I’d be disappointed in you if you showed any respect to someone who hasn’t earned it. So, yes, doing it as a thank-you would suit me fine.”
“It’s not that simple. They didn’t just hurt the shifter. They invested months of their lives into fucking up my life. Brandt even came close to beating me with a bat not so long ago.”
Kenny’s face hardened. “Did he, now? I can guarantee that won’t happen again.”
“No, you can’t. Brandt doesn’t listen to anyone. He doesn’t heed warnings or threats. Hell, he doesn’t even heed common sense.”
“I’ll make it clear to his family that any trouble he causes you will be revisited on all of them.”
Since she couldn’t afford to look as though she was giving in easily, she continued to argue. “My point is that I’m not just gunning for that family because of what they did to the shifter—I want them to pay for the shit they’ve caused for me. Altering my statement and saving Brandt from the wrath of the shifter council doesn’t really appeal to me.”
Kenny actually smiled, the weirdo. “You get that vengeful streak from me.”
Um, no, she didn’t.
“He’ll pay for what he did to you, and I’ll make it clear that you’re not to be harassed or touched. In exchange, you’ll change your statement. Everybody wins.”
“Except for the shifter.”
Kenny flicked his hand. “She’s not more important than your life, Gwen. And that’s what we’re talking about here. Your life. If you go ahead with frying Brandt’s ass, the anti-shifter extremists might find out. If they do, they will leap on the situation. They wouldn’t just go after you; they’d go after your foster family. So ask yourself, Gwen . . . is one shifter more important than the lives of you and those closest to you?”
She gritted her teeth against the urge to point out that he could probably put a leash on the extremists if he really wanted to—telling them he’d withdraw funding would most likely go a long way toward making them let the situation alone.
“If you’re going to keep yourself and your foster family safe, you need to take action. It’s best not to delay. I understand that you don’t know or trust me, so of course you’ll struggle with doing what I’m asking of you. But the truth is that if you change your statement, you’ll be doing it for yourself and for your foster family too.”
For a very long moment, she said nothing. Let the silence stretch out. Ensuring that she sounded begrudging, she said, “I’ll do it. For my family.”
He smiled again. “Excellent.” He pushed out of his seat. “It’s been nice talking to you, Gwen. I have to say, I wasn’t expecting that.” He did sound genuinely surprised. “You, Geena, and I will have to get together sometime.”
Hell, no.
“I’ll be in touch.” He and his cronies then left.
Remaining seated, she watched through the window as they disappeared in a black BMW. That was when the Mercury wolves joined her.
Zander took the chair beside hers and angled it so that his front was pressed to her side. Even sitting down, he managed to crowd her. His spread legs bracketed her chair while one arm draped over her shoulders and the other reached across her body to smooth his hand over her thigh. “You okay?”
“Kind of.” She sighed. “I didn’t think he’d try the concerned-father routine. I thought he might play on my concern for Geena and pretend that any trouble I had could bleed over onto her.”
Zander kissed her temple. “Instead, he appealed to your sense of fairness.”
She nodded. “He made out like I owed him a debt, somehow sensing I was the kind of person who’d repay one.” She could see why Geena cared for Kenny—he was manipulative, played on a person’s weakness. He’d know that Geena wanted his approval, and he likely used that to keep her loyal to him. Gwen didn’t like to think of her sister being played that way.
“I think he really did call Social Services,” said Ally. “I heard the ring of truth in his voice. Not that I’m saying you owe him anything, Gwen. You don’t. I just figured you might prefer knowing.”
Gwen nodded her thanks. “It doesn’t change anything. He wasn’t a father to me. And you’re right. I owe him nothing. But he thinks I should feel that I do, so I don’t think he’ll doubt that I’m truly backing down.”
“He’ll believe it,” agreed Zander, stroking a hand over her hair. It had been damn hard to remain in his seat, leaving her to deal with Cogman alone. He’d wanted to be close, wanted to give her support as a mate should. Instead, he’d had to watch her sit opposite that motherfucker. His wolf had growled and snarled and brooded, not wanting the male anywhere near her.
Zander had also kept watch on Cogman’s bodyguards, wanting to be sure they didn’t touch Gwen. If they’d even tried, Zander’s shifter-speed would have had him at her side in an instant. Cupping her chin, he brought her face to his. “You won’t have to deal with him again.”
He kissed her, and Gwen almost moaned. He tasted of cream, fluffy pastry, and sugary glaze. As he pulled back, she took a long breath and said, “So now we put the next part of our plan into action. I need to speak to Colt.”
Zander brushed his thumb over her chin. “I’ll be with you.”
“You can’t come into the station with me.”
His grip involuntarily tightened on her jaw. “Why not?”
“Because it wouldn’t make any sense for you to keep protecting me if you thought I was giving up on Andie. Colt will think it’s weird that you’d stay at my side. I have to lie to him and say that you don’t know why I’m there.”
Zander swore, releasing her. He hadn’t considered that.
She rubbed his thigh. “You can stay in the SUV. I’ll give some spiel to Colt about wanting to keep you guys around for my family’s sake. I’ll be okay on my own. Nothing’s going to happen to me in a police station.”
Zander clenched his jaw. She was probably right. Still . . . “I don’t like it.”
“Trust me, I’ll be fine.”
“I do trust you.”
Gwen’s breath caught in her throat. Considering she’d opened up to him at a snail’s pace, it was the last thing she’d thought he’d say. Especially since he was, by his own admission, extremely guarded. Lost for words, she leaned into him, letting him know she appreciated and valued his trust in her.
He pressed a lingering kiss to her hair and squeezed her nape. “Let’s get this done, yeah?”
“Yeah,” she said softly.
A short while later, Derren whipped the SUV into a parking space outside the sheriff’s department. Zander immediately noticed the sheriff’s car. Through the large windows of the office, it was easy to see that the chairs in the reception area were vacant. Good. Zander didn’t want Gwen to have to hang around awhile, waiting for her chance to speak with Colt.
“Hopefully I won’t be long,” said Gwen.
Zander grabbed her braid, keeping her in place as he gave her a light kiss. “We’ll be here. Call or text if you need me.”
With a faint smile, she slid out of the SUV. Staying in his seat, watching her walk into a messed-up situation alone, went against every protective instinct he had. And it gutted him.
“She’ll be okay, Z,” said Bracken. “The sheriff might not like her, but he’s not a physical threat to her.”
Derren nodded. “Besides, she’s tough.”
“She’s also mine.” This was twice in one day that Zander couldn’t be at her side while she went through a shitty experience. He hated that.
“She’s been through worse alone,” Ally pointed out.
Zander clenched his fists. “Reminding me of that does not help.” His pulse spiked as Gwen disappeared into the sheriff’s department, out of his line of sight. He took a long breath. “This plan better fucking work.”
Gwen stepped into a clean, sterile reception area, nose wrinkling at the scents of coffee and bleach. The room was empty, apart from the janitor, and—as luck would have it—the sheriff. He appeared to be bullying the janitor, just as he did everyone else . . . which was likely why the poor guy looked close to ramming his cart into Colt’s gut.
She took a few steps toward them, snatching the sheriff’s attention. He straightened to his full height, brow creased. To her amusement, he also seemed to be struggling not to bare his teeth.
“Why are you here?” he asked.
“Such commendable people skills,” she said drily. There was no sense in acting pally with him. That would only make him suspicious.
“Just answer the damn question, Gwen.”
Before she could speak, the front door swung open, and a scantily dressed woman crossed to the sheriff on high heels, leaving the faint scent of marijuana in her wake. She also had some serious bruising on her face.
“Where is he?” she demanded, her voice a whip.
Colt sighed, bored. “Sandra, I’m going to have to ask you to stay calm.”
“Where’s Jim?”
“Where he normally is, Sandra—the drunk tank. And I suppose you’re going to tell me that the bruises on your face aren’t his artwork.”
She shifted uncomfortably. “I fell. You know I’m clumsy.”
“Clumsy. Right.”
“Let him go, Sheriff. Please.”
Gwen’s stomach plummeted. The scene was too close to home—or to the home she’d had during her childhood, anyway. How many times had her stepdad’s ass ended up in the drunk tank? How many times had Hanna pleaded with the police to let him go, always equipped with inventive excuses to explain the bruises? She’d even taken Gwen along for sympathy, encouraged Gwen to back up her lies. And Gwen had.
“He assaulted a police officer while in custody,” said Colt. “That means he isn’t leaving for a little while. You go on home, Sandra.”
“No. I want to speak to Jim!”
A muscle in Colt’s cheek ticked. “If you insist on sticking around, that’s fine. Maybe we could do a little drug test while you’re here.”
Sandra instantly drew back, paling. “Fine. I’ll go home.”
“Thought you might.”
Spinning on her heel, Sandra made a dramatic exit—much like Hanna used to do.
Colt cleared his throat. “Well, Gwen, what kind of complaint do you have now?”
Gwen balled up her hands. She wasn’t sure she could do this. Wasn’t sure she could again lie to protect an abusive son of a bitch . . . she’d done enough of that as a kid.
But this time it would be different, she reminded herself. This time, the son of a bitch wouldn’t go unpunished. He’d eventually get what he deserved. Still, a part of her felt shamed by what she was about to do. It didn’t make much sense, but that shame was there all the same.
She lifted her chin. “We should talk alone.”
Whatever he saw in her expression made his confrontational stance ease. “Come to my office.”
She followed him into what was essentially a box room, but he’d made the most of the small space. At his gesture, she took the seat opposite him. “I’m here to alter my statement,” she said through her teeth.
Colt stiffened, surprised. “Really?”
“I’m not doing it for Brandt or any of the Moores—let’s just be clear on that. I owe someone a favor, and they’ve called it in. I repay my debts.”
He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table, looking rather satisfied. “All right. Why don’t you tell me what you really saw that night?”
Gwen narrowed her eyes. He knew her version had been the truth—the issue was that the truth simply didn’t suit him. “Don’t push it. Before we get started, I have a condition. I’ll do this, but I don’t want the news to make its way around town. The shifters can’t know.”
He abruptly straightened. “They’re still here?”
“My family needs protection right now. I was attacked by a flock of avian shifters the other night. There’s no way I’ll believe that the Moores weren’t behind it—there’s no one else who’d mean me the kind of harm that the shifters caused.”
“They could have been enemies of the wolves you’ve got hanging around you.”
“If that was the case, they wouldn’t have attacked me.”
“Maybe the extremists got hold of the story and sent someone to hurt you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Believe what you want. The point is that I want to keep the shifters around for protection. I’ll give the Moores what they want and alter my statement, but they need to keep it to themselves.”
Colt twisted his mouth. “The shifters will find out at the hearing.”
“But by then, the Moores will be happy and willing to leave me alone.”
“And what about the shifters? I don’t think they’ll like that you’ve used them.”
“I know.” She sighed, as if troubled. “I’m thinking it might be best if I act like I’m having second thoughts the night before the hearing. I could act afraid and stuff. Then they’ll just think I fell at the last hurdle. They’ll be upset and pissed, but not as much as they’d be if they found out how long it had been my intention to back down.”
He lifted his brows. “Sounds like a good plan.”
“It’s not a plan I intend to put into action until the Moores confirm they’ll keep my cooperation quiet.”
“They’ll be willing to do that.”
“Call them. Ask. I’m not saying a word until I have their agreement.”
He picked up his cell phone. “You’ll trust their word? They might not stick to their end of this bargain.”
“If they don’t, I can always change my mind again at the hearing. This is their one and only chance to gain my cooperation. They can take it or leave it.”
Colt swiped his thumb over the screen of his cell and then sank into his chair. “Hey, Ezra. I think you’ll be rather interested to hear who’s sitting opposite me right now. Gwen Miller.” Colt told him about her offer, advised him to take the deal. Then he held out the phone. “He’d like to speak with you, Gwen.”
She took the phone and, not bothering to greet the asshole on the other end of the line, simply said, “What?”
“I must admit,” began Ezra, sounded smug as fuck, “you took longer than I thought to fold—”
“I’m not folding, Moore,” she snapped. “I’m not doing this for, because of, or out of fear of you. You’re really not as special as you seem to think you are, so tone down the narcissism a little bit. I’m repaying a debt that I owe to someone else. But that arrogant tone of yours is pissing me off enough to reconsider just how important that debt is.”
There was a long pause, and she could almost sense him backing down. “I’ll agree to keep your cooperation quiet,” he said finally in a businesslike voice, all trace of smugness gone.
“Then it’s a deal.”
“It is. Take care, Miss Miller.”
She handed the phone back to Colt. “Ready when you are.”
He led her into a plain, basic interview room. The hard, plastic chair was as uncomfortable as they came, but she didn’t let her discomfort show.
“Would you like a coffee?” asked Colt. It was a genuine offer.
“No.” She rolled back her shoulders. “Let’s get this over with.” She gave him a statement that corroborated Andie’s second one, said that she couldn’t be sure that Brandt hadn’t simply stumbled upon a hurt and bruised Andie, and that it was possible that he’d even been trying to help her.
After they were done, Colt walked with her to the reception area. “You did the right thing, Gwen. It’s not easy to back down. And it takes strength to back down from people you despise. You did the right thing.”
“Not the right thing.”
“The smart thing.”
Outside, Gwen headed straight to the SUV and slid onto the rear passenger seat. No sooner had she shut the door than Zander pulled her to his side and gave her a quick kiss.
“You okay?” he asked, smoothing her bangs out of her face.
“Better now that I’m out of there.” Even better now that they were driving away.
Zander massaged her nape. “Did he buy it?”
“Yep.” Her upper lip curled. “Ezra sounded like the cat that got the cream.”
Riding shotgun, Bracken twisted to look at her. “The lie will keep you safe.”
“For a while,” she said. “When I blurt out the truth before the council, things will go to shit fast.” Gwen turned to Zander. “You sure you want to stick around for that? Ow!” She rubbed at her scalp, scowling at the asshole for pulling her hair.
Zander put his face close to hers. “Then don’t ask stupid, bullshit questions. I’ll be at your side the entire fucking time.”
“So will I,” said Bracken.
“And me,” added Ally.
Derren glanced at her through the rearview mirror. “Me too, Gwen.”
She swallowed hard. Their show of support might have been partly for Andie, but it still touched Gwen. Still meant a lot to her. She gave a nod of thanks, speechless.
Back at the house, she went upstairs, intending to take a relaxing bath. Zander followed her into her room and helped her undress. Somehow, they ended up in bed instead of the bath. Still, the result was the same—the tension left her muscles, and her mood lifted.
Afterward, as they lay in bed watching TV, Zander said, “You know, for someone who spends a lot of her time cleaning, you have a surprisingly messy room.”
Snuggled into his side, Gwen shrugged one shoulder. “I’m a rebel that way.”
The sound of the floorboards creaking above them made him frown. The person who stayed up there was constantly a noisy bastard. He knew none of his pack mates were up there. “Is that Marlon’s room?”
“No, he’s down the hall.”
“Yvonne’s?”
“Nope. Her room is near his.”
Unease slithered down Zander’s spine. Snorting at his body’s dumb reaction, he picked up the remote. “I’m turning over.”
“Hey! I want to see which pack she chooses!”
He sighed at her. “You do know that this movie is nothing like real life for shifters, don’t you? The pack dynamics, the mating bonds—the scriptwriters got it all wrong.”
Gwen rested her chin on his chest. “What are mating bonds like? I know they’re metaphysical and stuff, but that’s pretty much it.”
“I can’t really know what they feel like. I’ve never had one. I can only tell you what others have told me. A mating bond connects you to someone on a level that nothing else will. It’s intense. Powerful. It allows you to feel your mate. Feel their emotions, their pain. You can use the link to bolster their strength by pushing energy down the bond. Your scent mixes with theirs and becomes one unique scent. And if one dies, it’s very hard for the other to survive the breaking of the bond. But I’m told that the bond is special enough to be worth the risk.”
Zander wished she was ready to hear that he believed she was his mate, but his gut told him to keep quiet for now. He continued, “Most mated couples I’ve come across seem happy and stable. The pairs balance each other out, accept each other for who they are, and seem content in a way I can’t imagine ever feeling. I guess you’d have to experience the bond for yourself to really know.”
Gwen gave him a faint smile, unable to suppress a twinge of envy. She wasn’t a soppy person, but she did like the idea of predestined mates—thought it was a beautiful thing. “Has anyone ever told you what it feels like for the mating bond to form?” she asked, relaxing as he ran his fingers through her hair.
“I’ve heard it hurts at first, but then the pain gives way to a sort of euphoric sense of peace. It usually takes certain steps for a mating bond to fully snap into place. First, the couple has to be open enough to each other to sense the bond. Only after they’ve overcome certain obstacles will the bond strengthen and their scents mix. But they still need to be absolutely solid before the mating bond’s complete and fully working.”
“Must be nice to know you’ll have that one day.”
“Not sure I’ll make a good mate.”
She frowned. “Why?”
“I know myself, Gwen. I know I’m intense, even for a shifter. I know I’m shit at connecting with people and have all kinds of issues.” He figured it was only fair that he warn her. “I was harsh on you that night at the boardwalk, so I’m sure you’ve noticed that I also lack in the empathy department. I’m not good at understanding people’s problems or seeing their point of view. It doesn’t make me a great confidant or partner—people can get upset when they don’t think you appreciate how bad their situation is or how they’re feeling.”
Given all she’d learned about him, Gwen didn’t think it was all that surprising that he struggled to connect with people or that his ability to trust was all fucked-up. She instinctively knew that he wouldn’t be an easy mate. In fact, she doubted he was familiar with love or emotional expression. But she also knew he was someone who’d always be there for the people he cared for, no matter what. Someone who’d be unwaveringly loyal. That was pure gold for a woman like Gwen, so she didn’t doubt that there would be other females out there who’d feel the same way.
She jabbed her finger into his chest. “You’re not the bad catch you seem to think you are. You have plenty of good qualities. Lots of people have issues. I don’t think I’ve ever met a single person who doesn’t. If your mate turns out to be a fussy bitch who can’t accept you for who you are, fuck her—she doesn’t deserve you.”
She deserved him just fine, Zander thought. Suited him perfectly. Would complete him in a way that words would never explain. Although he hadn’t sensed she was his mate on even a subconscious level before Ally knocked some sense into him, there had always been that primal warning of danger around Gwen. Now, he understood it. Zander didn’t like vulnerabilities, and he’d instinctively known that she could become one. Known that she could become an addiction. Addictions fucked with a person’s self-control, and Zander needed control. He just needed Gwen more.
He dragged her on top of him. “You do realize that this—you and me—won’t come to an end once the trial’s over, don’t you?”
Gwen stilled, though her heart slammed against her ribs. It hadn’t been a flippant remark. There was a fierce determination in both his tone and expression. “You have a pack to go back to.”
“I didn’t say I’d leave the pack.”
“Long-distance relationships are hard. Putting in the effort when it’s just a long-distance fling seems pointless.”
He lightly tapped her ass. “We both know this is more than a fling. I told you last night, you matter to me.”
“Well, this can’t be anything other than a fling. I’m not your mate.”
His wolf snapped his teeth at that remark. “How do you know?”
She spluttered. “Because . . . I’d know.”
“Would you? I already told you, the frequency of the bond can be blocked by lots of things. I’m not saying you are my mate.” But his wolf urged him to do so. “I’m just making the point that it makes no sense to end something good on the premise that I should be waiting for a mate that could be lying right on top of me. A mate that could have walked past me yesterday or bumped into me another day. I’ve told you before, Gwen, I’m not going to spend my life searching for someone I may never recognize as my mate.”
She went to sit up, but Zander wrapped his arm around her to pin her in place. “I like what we have, Gwen. You like what we have. Why end it without a good reason? Do you have a good reason?”
Gwen licked her lips. She could point out that she was a pain in the ass, that he could have any woman he wanted, that surely a shifter would suit him better. But she said, “No.” She made a big deal out of him being nosy and pushy, but she really didn’t mind it so much—she just pushed right back, stood her ground, snorted at his nonnegotiable tone. The truth was that Zander was exactly her type. Loyal, trustworthy, honest, sexily assertive. He listened, paid attention. He was also an absolute rock star in bed. The kind of person who’d leave a mark wherever he went.
As a rule, Gwen didn’t trust any situation in which she got what she wanted. She’d been confused by his interest, hadn’t trusted it, so she’d slammed up her guard. Now? Now there seemed no point. Holding him at a distance hadn’t worked. Trying to push him away hadn’t worked. Feigning disinterest in him and his life to offend him hadn’t worked.
He was like a freaking emotional tank. Solid. Resilient. Just kept on forging ahead, able and willing to smash whatever obstructed his path. If he said she was who he wanted, fine. She wasn’t gonna argue. Not anymore.
“Do you wish you had a good reason?” Zander asked carefully.
Gwen took a long breath. “No.”
Triumph surged through Zander, and his wolf settled a little. He tightened his hold on her. “Then don’t fight this. Let it happen. Go with it. Let yourself be fucking happy.”
“Want the truth?”
“Let’s hear it.”
“You do make me happy . . . and not only because you make a pretty picture naked beneath me.” She smiled dreamily. “Very, very pretty.”
His mouth curved. “And you make me happy. But I’m not pretty. I am, however, naked. As are you.” He rolled them and urged her to wrap her legs around him. “I think we should make the most of that.”
“I think it would be a crime not to.”
“Good.” He angled her hips and drove his cock deep.