Rygan was annoyed, and more annoyed yet, because, quite frankly, he had zero reason to be pissed at all. They’d won the house they wanted, buying it for a pittance; if they left, they could flip it and make a decent profit. His keen sense of business should have put him in a good mood, but instead, he wanted someone to punch.

If. He’d thought if they left the house - when it was a question of when. They were going to leave. Thinking otherwise was just going to set him up for disappointment.

The problem wasn’t as much leaving Lakesides - although he’d taken to the quiet town and its weird inhabitants - as it was knowing that he’d leave a certain loner behind…

“What’s the matter?” Tracy asked, frowning.

He noticed that he was growling low, threateningly.

Dammit. He and his tiger had never been as unsettled as they had been since their arrival in Lakeside. The animal had wanted him to follow Ace around like a damn lost puppy, and had started to sulk when Rygan wouldn’t give in.

It was as though…

No. He wasn’t going to start thinking nonsense now. He was attracted to, and intrigued by, Aisling, no doubt about that, but attraction happened every day. Having a hard-on for a woman didn’t mean that she was his mate, his other half, shaped by nature to complete him.

---

Matings had been studied over the three decades since the paranormal community had revealed themselves to the rest of the world. Shifters, angels, demons, vampires, and everything in between had fated mates, and no scientist yet had come up with definite information; they just had theories, at best. Some said mates were the results of an evolutionary thing: nature picked two people who were likely to have strong children, and bound them together. That theory was destroyed by the fact that sometimes true mates were of the same sex and, therefore, unable to reproduce.

Rye didn’t care about the logic behind it. All he knew was that, as a shifter, he had two choices - getting married and blood-bound to someone he cared about someday, or waiting in the hopes of meeting that one person designed for him and sharing everything, heart, soul, and blood.

He was already stronger than he cared to acknowledge, and patience had never been his forte. Besides, he was thirty-one. Like many before him, he was more than happy to go with option one: find someone to spend his life with. Find someone who wouldn’t be in his head constantly - someone who couldn’t control him. He might already have settled down if his damn tiger had been more compliant. But no, out of all the women he’d met, the stupid animal had to pick that one. The one who came with a warning label.

Still. That didn’t mean that the woman was his mate.

It didn’t. Most other feline shifters he knew were attracted to women left, right, and center. Their animals sometimes agreed with them, letting them form relationships, temporary or otherwise. Ace might have been the first that the grumpy tiger found fetching, but it meant nothing.

Nothing at all.

His head snapped left as his nostrils took in a scent that shouldn’t already be so familiar. Wood, earth, spices, currently mixed with butter and honeycomb. There she was, behind the window of a pretty, elegant bakery, giving a frosted cupcake to a little girl. Then she leaned over the counter and handed one to the human guy accompanying the child, along with her most open, dazzling smile.

He didn’t like that at all.

“Rye?”

“Go ahead,” he told Daunte. “Start packing. I’ve got to speak to her about the Vergas wolves.”

The Beta nodded and walked away. When Rye turned back, the customer and his daughter had already left the bakery, and Aisling was cleaning the counter. A tall, pretty woman in her twenties appeared from the back, and Ace gave her a few boxes, as well as a cupcake - a yellow one, this time.

He was staring like an idiotic creeper and he didn’t like it, so he shook his head and walked in.

The instant he pushed the door open, the damn woman snarled, and when she lifted her eyes to his, they were golden. Dangerous. Sexy as fuck. Take your pick.

“What are you doing here? I thought we’d agreed to stay away from each other.”

He could have pointed out that she’d been the first to ignore her own rule when she’d turned up at the auction, but he just replied, “The angry look doesn’t work on me, kitty cat. It just turns me on.”

She dropped the snarl and sighed, muttering, “Weirdo.”

He couldn’t deny that.

“So, you’re really into sweet things, aren’t you?”

While she had some savory rolls and breads on one side, the star of the show was her impressive display of cupcakes, mini pies, and muffins.

She crossed her arms and mumbled defensively, “It sells. What are you doing here?”

“The smell led me here,” he said truthfully.

Only it was her scent, rather than cupcakes, that had forced his steps.

“Well, what can I tempt you with?”

He waggled an eyebrow, because if he wasn’t mistaken, that qualified as flirting.

“What’s on the menu?” Rygan shot back, his eyes fixed on hers.

The woman was going to be the death of him; he knew it for a fact when she took another cupcake and plunged her finger in the frosting. She lifted her finger to his mouth, saying, “Open.”

Rygan obeyed. He didn’t have any other choice.

Then, she brought the same finger to her own mouth and licked it clean, before sucking it for good measure.

Fucking. Hell.

“What do you say; a little too spicy for you?”

He was this close to jumping on the other side of the counter and throwing her on his shoulder, but something told him that little show wasn’t seduction as much as a display of dominance. Glaring hadn’t worked, so she showed she was on top by manipulating him, instead.

“You don’t want to play that game with me, pretty girl,” he warned her, edging behind the counter. “It’ll end with your ass reddened by my palm.”

“Aww,” she shot back, with a condescending and adorable moue. “I didn’t know you were delusional. There’s a really good shrink in town, if you want the contact details.”

A bell rang and the door of her bakery opened; he didn’t have to turn to hear the three sets of heavy human footsteps, or smell the overly flowery perfumes. Aisling’s gaze lost its amusement, and she regained a professional demeanor.

Rygan got the message; he wasn’t going to mess things up for her at work. Reluctantly, he took a step back.

“I’ll take a dozen cupcakes.”

“Which flavors?” she asked, shooting him a fucking infuriating forced, professional smile.

“Two of each.”

“Coming right up.”

She carefully placed the cakes in a beige box and wrapped it with a blue ribbon before handing it to him.

“How much do I owe you?”

“It’s on Daunte’s tab,” she replied with a shrug.

Somehow that annoyed him.

“Not necessary. I can pay for my own.”

She glared but replied, “eighteen dollars.”

“They’re two dollars each.”

She was giving him a discount? Did anything make sense about this woman?

“Twenty-four dollars, then!”

She didn’t stamp her foot, but she visibly wanted to. Rygan smiled, ridiculously glad to be able to get under her skin.

He popped some money on the counter, leaving his card on top of it.

“Call me when you’re done here. I actually came on business.”

“Dammit, Ian, watch where you’re going,” Rye growled at the poor schmuck who was carrying a box so large he couldn’t physically see a thing.

Rygan knew he was being a dick, but he couldn’t help it. He was in a foul mood, no point denying it. Preparing to leave Aisling’s home felt…wrong. His tiger was roaring in protest, not letting him catch a break.

“You know, I’d say your tiger can make the run between her house and ours in fifteen minutes, max. Chin up.”

Rye turned to his Beta, eyes narrowed. From the very start, he’d seen the man as a rival of sorts, because it was clear that he and Aisling were friendly, but Daunte wasn’t jealous at all; if anything, the man just seemed amused by the situation, smirking whenever he caught the heated looks Rye and Ace exchanged.

“Chill. I really don’t want into her pants. We’re literally like family. I’d give you the whole don’t hurt her speech, but, honestly, I’m more worried about her cutting your balls off and feeding them to you if you ever do something you shouldn’t.”

Rye winced, admitting that she probably would.

“So you just see her like a little sister, then?”

Daunte shook his head.

“Nope. I’m the baby here. You know Ace’s twenty-eight, right?”

That would be a no. Actually, hell to the no. She looked twenty-one, tops.

“It’s the dimples. They make her look adorable.”

“And she’d cut your balls off for calling her that.”

“Which is why I’m not saying it to her face.”

Rye laughed; he was glad to have been mistaken when he’d believed that his Beta was involved with his…

His what?

Suddenly, he realized something. If Ace wasn’t Daunte’s conquest…

“She’s from your old pride,” Rye guessed, and Daunte immediately closed up.

Rygan smirked; it had only lasted an instant but the startled look the Beta had sent him made him think he’d nailed that one.

“Come on, Daunte. I don’t mean her any harm.”

The beta nodded. “Sure. But it’s her history - she’s the one who wants to keep it private. How do you think she’ll feel if you sniff around until you get your answers? Let me give you one clue about Ace - she’s wounded. She has a chip on her shoulder, and she never got over it. And how do you get a wounded animal’s trust?”

He didn’t answer the rhetorical question. They both knew: you let it come to you.

Rye nodded slowly.

“By the way, there may or may not be a few bets going about you two. I have five hundred bucks in the pot, so don’t mess up.”