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Zaire drew in a long breath, his attention zipping to Quinley’s cat.
Isaiah peered up to see that she was now staring at Zaire, a warning in those eyes.
The Alpha’s own eyes turned cat again, his animal looking right at her. She went back to scent-marking Isaiah—making it clear where her affections and loyalties lay.
A low growl oozed out of the male cat. Zaire’s eyes abruptly became human once more, and he squeezed them shut as he shook his head hard.
Tate folded his arms. “What’s it gonna be? A fight with Isaiah, or a lifetime without Nazra—because let’s face it, you won’t manage to repair things with her if you go ahead with a duel.”
Zaire’s eyes snapped open, pinning Tate with a glare.
“And bear in mind that if you lose Nazra, you’ll lose your position of Alpha as well,” Havana tacked on. “Then giving up Quinley will have been for nothing.”
And that… that seemed to get through. Because Zaire’s glare eased, the hardness in his gaze melting away. He spared Quinley’s cat another look, his mouth tightening, a long exhale escaping through his nose. He then gave his head another fast shake and sharply pivoted on his heel. Moments later, he was driving out of the cul-de-sac.
Havana turned to Isaiah. “For a minute there, I actually thought he’d choose to challenge you nonetheless.”
So had Isaiah. “It was that last comment you made that caused him to reconsider.” He looked off in the direction of where the car had headed.
“I doubt his cat will pester him to come back, because that little miss up there”—Deke tipped his chin at Quinley’s feline—“made it very clear in how she behaved that she’s too committed to you to find anything a threat to your partial bond.”
Yeah. And damn if it wasn’t a seriously good fucking feeling. “Which is likely why she came out in the open. She knew it would get the message across.”
Havana gazed up at her, smiling. “She looks so sweet when she’s not standing on my fence giving me a death stare. I admire her guts too much to be mad about it.”
Tate snickered. “And you don’t want to be one of the neighbors who finds creepy little presents on their bed.”
“That, too,” the devil admitted.
The feline fidgeted, turning her head toward the house, digging her claws into his shoulder just enough to get her wish across.
“We’re gonna head inside,” Isaiah told the others. “Later.” Gently plucking the cat from his shoulder, he held her against the front of his chest as he reentered the house. In the living room, he nuzzled her little face. “Shift for me.”
Bones snapped and popped as she changed shape. Then he had a very naked woman in his arms.
Burrowing further into him—likely for warmth—she tilted her head, concern etched into her face. “You okay?”
“I wasn’t, because he was pissing me off. But then your cat made an appearance. And realizing she didn’t perceive him as an impediment to the development of our bond… that got me.” And everything inside him and his feline had relaxed.
“She did want to make a point to him, but she was also anxious to soothe you. For me and my cat, he’s just a nuisance. We still don’t want him near you, but we have too much faith in our growing bond to think anyone but me, you, and our animals could jack it up.”
Which they never would.
“I swear, Lucinda could walk right up to our front door—and yeah, I’d want her gone; I’d ensure she knew that she wasn’t to come back. But I wouldn’t worry that seeing her would change things for you. Not now. You assured me the day we saw her at the mall that you’d let her go, and I trust that you meant it.”
That was yet another warm punch to his chest. “Good. Because it would change nothing. You’re all I want. All my cat wants.” He cocked his head. “How much of the conversation did you hear?”
“A lot, but I don’t know how long you’d been talking before my cat snuck over. I heard you mention something about sensing that his bond with Nazra was chipped at the edges.” She sucked on the inside of her lower lip. “You were right in believing he wanted to push you into throwing down a gauntlet—it was plain to see.”
“He wanted my blood, but he needed an excuse to draw it.”
“He wouldn’t have felt better for it afterwards. He also would have screwed everything up for himself—and for no good reason at all. Havana shouldn’t have had to point that out to him.” Quinley idly tugged at Isaiah’s collar. “Maybe he’ll now go mend his bond with Nazra.”
Isaiah couldn’t say he wished him luck or anything. The guy was a fucking tool, and he’d let Quinley down one too many times. Not that Isaiah was mad at Zaire for giving her up—he never would be, because she wouldn’t otherwise be his—but he was pissed that the male had never tried putting an end to the crap she’d dealt with for years from his peers.
“It surprises me that I appear in his dreams. I mean, he did used to appear in mine when I was younger. But after he claimed Nazra, it stopped for me. I would have thought he could say the same.” Her expression turned cautious. “Do you still dream about Lucinda?”
Ah, such a deceptively casual question.
