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“You never mentioned that.”
“Forgot about it,” she said with a blasé shrug, clearly so utterly unmoved by it that it had completely slipped her memory.
Undeniably pleased that this woman she could rightfully have been jealous of simply wasn’t on Quinley’s radar, he asked, “What did she say?”
“She wanted my assurance that I wasn’t mating you to get a reaction out of Zaire, and that I would definitely send him away if he approached me. She also said there were things I didn’t know. Maybe this is that; maybe they’re having problems. But if that’s the case, why would Harlan let them ascend?”
Isaiah twisted his mouth. “He could be hoping that it would help mend things between them; that if they’re focusing on ruling the pride together, it would help unite them and distract Zaire from you.”
She let out a long sigh. “I suppose it could be that.” She looked out of the window. “It will have cost his ego to leave before he was ready. But it was a good sign that he didn’t insist on staying—your points must have hit home. Let’s hope he doesn’t come back.”
“You wouldn’t want to watch him get his ass handed to him by me?”
She gave another loose shrug. “Not really. I don’t have any interest in what happens to him, good or bad. What I definitely don’t want is to watch you brawling—not that I think you’d lose, I just don’t want to see you injured.”
Feeling his lips tip up, Isaiah looped his arms around her and pulled her flush against him. “You genuinely don’t give a hot shit that he’s finally sensed the truth, do you?”
“Nope. It doesn’t make any difference to anything. As you pointed out, you claimed me; it’s your mark I wear—he’s no one to me. And I don’t wish the situation was different.” She fiddled with his collar, avoiding meeting his eyes. “Did you mean what you said out there? That you wouldn’t go to Lucinda if she was hurt?”
Isaiah used his finger to tip up her chin so he could fix his gaze on hers. “I meant it.” Even his cat wouldn’t demand it. Not now, because it wasn’t torn where Quinley was concerned anymore. She’d won her way into his affections, pushing Lucinda’s memory out.
“Really?”
“Really. You’re my mate, not her. My commitment to you is absolute. That’s what that brand on your neck means.”
Quinley swallowed. “Okay.”
“Okay.” Isaiah lowered his head and took her mouth, sipping and tasting. “Now… I say we forget about them and everything else but us. I say we concentrate on our original plans. You ready to start our lazy day?”
She grinned. “More than ready. Bring on whatever you have in mind.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Returning home from the convenience store the following day, Isaiah walked straight into a wall of warmth. There were times when Quinley setting the thermostat so high drove him nuts. But entering the house after a walk in the freezing cold was not one of those times.
He put down his plastic bag and shrugged off his coat, listening for sounds of his mate. She’d been wrapping presents in the living area when he’d left, but he couldn’t hear the snipping of scissors or crackling of paper now.
Having hung his coat on the rack, he nabbed the bag from the floor and walked into the living area. She was no longer sitting near the tree, but a new bunch of gift-wrapped boxes were now positioned beneath it.
As he strode further into the house, he caught a fresh lungful of her scent. There was a shift to it; a feral edge that told him she was currently in her cat form. And she had to be close, or her scent would likely have dissipated.
His own animal stirred, eager to see the little female again. He’d wanted time with her last night, but Isaiah had vetoed it, knowing the antsy feline would have marked her with every fang in his mouth.
His cat was calmer now, refreshed from having spent all day yesterday enjoying quality time alone with his mate. Then, today, they’d accompanied her to the salon and stood guard while she worked. The lack of separation, the ability to stay close to her, had soothed the feline enough that his agitated state had eventually evened out.
No issues had cropped up while they were at the salon. The Vercetti Pack hadn’t returned. Similarly, Zaire hadn’t made a reappearance. Isaiah had thought the male black-foot might try reaching her at the salon since he’d been denied access to her, but he hadn’t.
Entering the kitchen, Isaiah glanced around. He found the little cat near the back door facing the corner wall, her furry butt up in the air. He set the plastic bag on the island. “What are you doing?”
She turned to face him… a huge-ass fucking spider dangling from her mouth. Dangling alive, its legs curling and uncurling.
He jerked his head back. “Jesus.”
Then she bit into it.
He grimaced. “Oh, the fuck no. Not here.” Especially when the spider wasn’t even fucking dead yet. He opened the back door. “You want to eat it, take it outside and do it.”
It was amazing how a single look from a cat could call you dramatic. Even more annoying, his own animal thought he was being unreasonable.
