CHAPTER FIVE

 

Mickey paced back and forth in front of the television while the international evening news played out on screen. Nervous energy jittered through her body. She didn’t like that Ace had gotten the jump on her or that Everly had hightailed it and run. Emergency or no, he had abandoned her behind enemy lines. Although she didn’t know why she would expect any loyalty from him. After all, he didn’t work for her.

Her phone rang, and she answered it after the first jangle. “Hi, Ma!”

“Hey sweetie, just checking in. It’s night here. Snow is coming down hard. Just wanted to hear how nice and warm it is over there,” her mother, Dana Shaw, giggled.

Mickey dropped down on the couch and grinned. “The sand is so soft, Ma. You would love it. And the breeze is just right. It’s a lovely eighty-five degrees here. Not too hot, but a storm is due to come in a few days.” She paused, smiling. “Are your snow cookies done?”

Dana chuckled. “Yup and dipped in white chocolate and topped with Snowcap candies. I managed to hide some from your father, but I’m sure he’ll find them sooner or later. Have you eaten yet?”

Mickey grinned. “Pancakes for dinner. Buttery, light, fluffy, perfect. I’m gonna bring back some chocolates for you. They have an amazing gift shop. I wish you would’ve come with me.”

“Oh, honey, you know I would love to be there with you, but this was something you needed to do for yourself.” Dana sighed. “It’s been a rough day. I’m winded.”

Mickey went still. Worry fluttered in her stomach. “Is it a flare up?”

“A small one, and I’m taking it easy, I promise. Your dad is taking care of me. Is Everly there? I don’t trust him one bit,” Dana sniped.

Mickey shook her head. “Nice change of subject. No, he left, had an emergency on the mainland, but I’m OK. I promise.”

“Good.” Dana yawned. “I’m going to go. I’m sleepy. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, OK?”

“OK, Ma. I love you.”

“I love you too, my little Mickey bean.”

Mickey chuckled at the use of her mother’s nickname for her. She hung up and carried the phone to the nightstand. Mickey hooked it up to the charger.

She glanced down at herself, noticing she still wore her outfit for dinner. Time to put her stuff away and change. She opened her suitcases and began putting away her possessions.

As she worked, her thoughts returned to Riktor and her confrontation with Ace. She could appreciate a little show of force, after all, she was on their territory, and they hadn’t been warned. If the roles had been reversed, she would have sent her brother Trevor to meet and assess Riktor. She just didn’t know where to go from there. Play the tourist or set up a meeting to assure Riktor that she meant no harm? What would Riktor do?

A knock at her door distracted her from her musings. She got up and headed for the door.

Mickey peeked through the eyehole. Multi-colored cellophane met her eye. “Yes? I’ve already received the gift basket that I ordered.” A nervous flutter started in the pit of her stomach.

“Alpha Shaw, this is Alpha Brody here. I’ve come to apologize on behalf of my brother and myself. He was out of line, approaching you on your vacation and shaming me in the process,” Riktor called through the thick slab of wood that separated them.

The velvety cadence of his voice, even through the barrier, wrapped around her and incited a fire in the pit of her stomach. Riktor had come to visit her. She licked her lips. Her thoughts stalled.

“Um, what?” she croaked.

Crap, he’s going to think I’m an idiot! “I mean, hold on a second.” She undid the locks and opened the door. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day.” She gave him what she hoped looked like a small, non-demented werebitch smile.

He gave her a curt nod. “May I come in?”

“Of course.” She stepped back from the door.

When he stepped into the suite, Michaela didn’t miss an opportunity to study him up close and personal. She watched him stride toward the coffee table and bend over. The fabric of his pants pulled tight across his muscular backside. The dark fabric molded to the roundness perfectly.

A whimper started in her throat. She bit her bottom lip to keep the sound from spilling out.

Riktor turned around, giving her a perfect view of the tenting at his fly. A very large lump.

She stared at the erection. Well, well, well. The rumors were true. Heat cascaded through her chest and welled up her throat to fill her face. Sweat beaded on her brow. Pheromones swirled around her. Her vision blurred, the only clear thing she could focus on was Riktor. Her pussy contracted. She moved toward him on autopilot until they stood toe to toe.

She lifted her chin and gazed up at him.

A single word broke through the fog that swathed her mind: mate.

She paused. Mate?

Mickey stared at him, taking him in from the waves of dark hair to the tops of his expensive Italian leather shoes. Riktor presented the perfect image of what a successful alpha should be. In theory.

She opened up her mind and allowed the wolf to flow into her thoughts.

Riktor’s energy pelted her in a light wave. Everything else about him seemed compressed. His shuttered expression gave nothing away. His dark blue gaze rested on her.

Frustration welled up in woman and beast. They wanted a response, a sign of how he felt about her on his territory or her as a person. But she sensed nothing.

She gritted her teeth. A shockwave of heat burst upward to flow through her limbs. Why wasn’t he reacting? Why wasn’t he angry?

A good alpha didn’t just stand before his rival like a stone. Every glance, move, or expression was weighed, studied, and stored away for later, but he never gave the impression of impassivity.

Mickey took a step back.

The word “mate” continued to pulse in the back of her mind, but both woman and wolf didn’t know what to do with this new revelation. She couldn’t take the plunge without knowing what she was dealing with. Mickey didn’t doubt the veracity of this new information. To distrust her wolf was to disbelieve herself.

“We need more to go on,” she told the wolf.

“Agreed,” the wolf retorted.

She lifted her chin. Time for the she-wolf to hunt her mate. “Enough of this bullshit pretense, Riktor. Tell me how do you really feel about me being on your territory?”