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“Members of my pride are doing their level best to locate the pack, as are Alex’s three uncles. Until we know where the pack hides, we can’t act.”
She examined his expression, feeling her eyes go slitted as she sensed, “You’re not too bothered that they came for you, because it might be the only way you can get to them.”
“I want to completely erase the threat they represent, and I want it done as fast as possible. That might only happen if they make appearances, because they’re somehow managing to evade detection. We have no idea how.”
She swore again. “Your wounds are definitely healed?”
“All healed,” Isaiah promised, resting a hand on her nape, not liking how pale she was. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before now about the Vercetti Pack situation. I know it had to have been a fuck of a shock to come home and see me like this.”
She rubbed at her arms. “You’re not supposed to get hurt.”
He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her hair. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”
“But they will come back for you, won’t they?” She bit down on her bottom lip. “Maybe you shouldn’t act as Tate’s bodyguard for a while. Maybe you should instead have a guard of your own.”
His cat bristled. “Not necessary.”
“Because dominant shifters can protect themselves, right,” she said, her voice dry. “It’s arrogant to think that you’re invulnerable just because you’re a dominant.”
“I don’t think I’m invulnerable, I just believe I can protect myself better than anyone else can.” But, yeah, it was partly an ego thing.
“Not if you’re too busy worrying about watching someone else’s ass.”
Isaiah frowned, pensive. “You do make a good point there. It might be worth Tate having me temporarily replaced so that he isn’t caught in any crossfire.”
She sniffed. “Much as I am concerned for Tate, I’m more bothered about you getting caught up in anything. It isn’t wise for someone else’s safety to be your priority at a time when your own is at risk.”
He tapped her chin with one finger. “Your safety is my priority, but I completely understand what you’re saying. I also agree. I’ll talk to Tate about it tomorrow. For now, I just want us to relax and have dinner before your stuff gets delivered.”
“Okay.” She drew in a deep breath. “First, you might want to know that Zaire stopped by the salon.”
It took a few moments for the words to penetrate. “Say that again.”
Her gaze slid to the side. “Uh…”
Outrage. Contempt. Jealousy. A dark territorialism. All of it blended inside Isaiah. Boiled in his blood, hot and thick as lava. “Seriously, say that again.”
Quinley nibbled on her lower lip. “Zaire stopped by the salon.”
Unbelievable. “When?”
“Just as I was about to leave.”
His cat flexed his claws, his upper lip quivering in an ugly snarl. He didn’t want Zaire anywhere near her.
Isaiah very nearly snarled himself. The fucker had no right. He’d given her up, he’d bound himself to a different female, he’d stayed away from Quinley all these years. He didn’t get to turn up now that she was claimed by another. “What did he want?”
“He’d heard I mated you and, uh”—she scratched at her cheek—“he said it tore off his blinders.”
Isaiah cursed, pushing off the sofa, unable to sit still while so many dark emotions scratched and bit at him. “So he’s claiming he believes you two were fated?”
“I denied it at first; said it was just a crush. He didn’t buy that. Funny, really, because he was the one who originally stated it was a crush,” she mused, though she seemed to be speaking more to herself than Isaiah. “Back then, I’d been the one to argue differently.”
“You should have called me.”
Her brow pinched. “What for? He wasn’t insulting or abusive. Just annoying. I was due to head home anyway.”
She seemed so blasé about it. Like it was no biggie for the other half of her fucking soul to show at her place of work and finally, after so many years, acknowledge that they were fated. It wasn’t “nothing” at all. In fact, depending on what Zaire wanted from her and just how much she might—consciously or subconsciously—be willing to give him, this could mean a lot.
