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She smiled. “You shouldn’t spoil me, you know.”
“I like spoiling you.” He scraped his teeth over the brand on her neck. “And if it turns you into a brat, it just gives me excuses to spank you.”
“Since when do you need excuses to do that?” she grumbled.
A wicked laugh came out of him. “Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it.”
Just then, a knock came at the front door.
Isaiah tensed, his amusement fading as tension slipped into his muscles.
Quinley sighed. This was a “thing” now. They’d had a few visitors today. Each time they’d realized someone was at the door, his mind had automatically flicked to the possibility of it being goddamn Zaire.
She still couldn’t quite believe that the ballsy bastard had come here yesterday morning. He had some real nerve to even think about seeking her out, all things considered.
What pissed her off most about it was that him turning up now and then could very well interfere with the forming of a bond between her and Isaiah. Zaire’s presence not only dredged up bad memories for her and her cat, it evoked some seriously negative emotions in Isaiah… none of which was conducive to starting off the imprinting process.
Also, she didn’t want her mate worrying that Zaire might somehow win her to his side if he ever chose to try. It would never happen, but she wouldn’t be able to blame Isaiah for worrying about it.
He raised a finger. “Wait here.”
Uh, no. “I like to nosily peek out of the window. That’s as far as I’ll go if it’s Zaire.” She didn’t want to award the shithead with her acknowledgement or attention—he deserved neither.
“You swear it?”
“I swear it.”
Isaiah grunted and said, “Fine.” His protective instincts demanded he be cautious, but he knew he had to be careful not to let his protectiveness become oppressive.
Plus, he could insist she remain here but, knowing Quinley, she’d head to the window anyway and then later claim ever so innocently that she could have sworn she’d heard him say, “Go nose, it’s good with me.”
It wasn’t Zaire at the door, or anyone who’d be similarly unwelcome. It was Isaiah’s parents. They hurried inside to escape the cold.
“We were just on our way home after having a late dinner at the diner,” said Andaya before dabbing a kiss on Isaiah’s cheek. “We thought we’d pop in and say hi. Where’s Quinley?” She was gone in a flash.
Watching as his mother and mate greeted each other warmly, Isaiah spoke to his father, “They bonded fast.” It pleased both him and his cat.
Koen grinned. “Son, your mother would take her home with us if she could.”
“Well, she can’t. It ain’t happening.” Too many people had the bright idea to do it—including Alex, who hadn’t given up on convincing Isaiah to consent to Quinley being his and Bree’s live-in nanny. “I like having her right here where she is.” Where she belonged.
His gaze darting from Isaiah to Quinley, Koen noted, “Something shifted between you two.”
“Hearing your mate got shot has a way of making you face a few things.” Like just how much said mate was coming to mean to you. Like just what it would do to you to lose them.
Koen gave a slow nod. “I suppose it doesn’t help that the new Crimson Pride Alpha came around. It can’t be easy for you or your cat having her true—”
“Don’t call him her true mate,” said Isaiah, his tone flat. “That term will never be used to describe his association with Quinley. That’s not what he is to her.”
“Fair enough.” Koen slanted his head. “Do you think he’ll be back?”
Unfortunately… “If his imprint bond is crumbling, probably. The breaking of such bonds are hard on shifters. It would be instinctual—both consciously and subconsciously—for him to seek out the one person who’ll fill the void and make everything better.”
Koen’s gaze moved to Quinley, who was still talking rapidly with Andaya. “She won’t leave you.”
“No, she won’t. I know that in my bones.” She had never let Isaiah doubt her commitment to him. Not once. “Doesn’t mean I’ll ever be good with him showing up here or anywhere else she might be.” Isaiah paused. “But I doubt you came to talk about him.”
“Your mother wants to know what your plans are for Christmas day. She’s probably persuading Quinley to join us for dinner that day as we speak. While they’re distracted… I did want to ask if you’ve heard from Alex’s uncles yet?”
