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“Your TM doesn’t know you exist. Mine does. He deliberately picked someone else over me; hurt me and my cat in a way we can’t forgive. It wasn’t like that for you.”
His brow creased slightly. “That doesn’t mean I’ll get caught up in what-ifs, Quinley. I would have had no business claiming you or anyone else if my head wasn’t on straight.”
“But your cat isn’t mentally where you’re at,” she said, recalling the messages he’d sent her through the site, explaining his situation.
“No, he’s not. Not yet. In time, that’ll change.”
A shifter’s inner animal craved a mate so much more than their human half did, so it was little wonder that his cat hadn’t yet made his peace with everything. Even as she understood, it did sting that the feline wasn’t invested in the mating. It felt too much like a rejection, and she’d had enough of those. But… “I can be patient. I understand his pain.”
At least she knew that Isaiah was fully invested. She really wanted to place all her trust in him; craved the security he offered, just as her cat did. They’d been without it for so long. They needed to feel they could rely on him in a way they’d never been able to rely on another.
And that, she thought, was a two-way thing. In his own way, he’d need to rely on her. And Quinley was determined that she’d give this mating her all. She’d pour into it everything she’d needed to hold back from Zaire, even as it terrified her a little that she’d be putting so much of herself out there.
“Your TM… what’s his name?” Isaiah asked.
“Zaire. Why?”
“Because as of this moment, I’m not going to refer to him as your true mate anymore. I claimed you. The word ‘mate’ will never be applied to him again where you’re concerned, not even as a reference to what fate intended him to be for you.”
Hmm, she liked that. As did her cat. “Fair enough.” She bit her lip. “What’s her name?”
“Lucinda.”
“Pretty.”
“I like yours better. And mine is way better than Zaire.”
Quinley chuckled into the kiss he slapped on her mouth.
He slid his hand from her hip to the small of her back and drew her closer. “Now sleep.”
“’Kay.” Feeling snug and warm and safer than she had in a long time, Quinley let her eyes close.
CHAPTER EIGHT
A piercing blare penetrated Isaiah’s dream, steadily clearing away the sleep motes. Flat on his back, he blindly reached out and slapped at his cell phone. As the alarm stopped, he let out a long sigh and rubbed at his face.
The sheets rustled, drawing his attention to the female who was using his other arm as a pillow. She lay on her side with her back facing him, one shoulder bare due to how baggy his tee was on her.
His focus darted straight to her brand. It was no longer raw, and the skin had reknitted. But the mark was no less distinct, and it would definitely scar.
Satisfied by that thought, Isaiah rolled into her, curling his arm around her. Her scent washed over him, and there was something… comforting about it. That scent meant something to him now. It belonged to his mate.
She still smelled faintly of him even though they’d showered after the final time he’d taken her through the night. He supposed his tee was mostly responsible for that.
Isaiah nuzzled her neck. “You awake?”
“Hm.”
He smiled. She had warned him that she wasn’t a morning person. Neither was his cat, in truth.
The feline had calmed down some. It still wasn’t happy that Isaiah had marked someone, but it did respect the meaning behind the brand. The cat understood that Quinley was theirs now.
Realizing he was idly tracing the brand with his fingertip, Isaiah felt his lips cant up. It was funny… he hadn’t thought he’d be moved by the bite. Not until they’d imprinted on one another. He hadn’t thought it would pluck at his attention or stir anything in him. But, on a basic and elemental level, the sight of it was almost enthralling.
“You need more time to wake up, that’s fine,” he said, sitting up sideways. He got to his knees, shifted aside, and rolled her onto her back.
She lifted her head, her eyelids fluttering. “What are you …?”
