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“I can go on a run,” she offered, “or spend some time with—”
“No.” He came right to her, his expression sober. “The one thing I’ll never need from you is space.”
“I wouldn’t mind,” she assured him.
“I would.” His gaze sank into hers, uber serious. “Really, I’m good.”
“You’re mad. You’re hiding it pretty well, but I feel it.”
“Yeah, I’m mad. Mad because you and me were having a good day, and life decided to throw a glass bottle in our faces. Now you’re upset, and I don’t like it. I know how it is to stare at the person who would have claimed your mate if circumstances had been different. It isn’t fun.”
“No, it’s not. But seeing her had to have been harder for you than it was for me.”
He gave a slow shake of the head. “Remember Zaire came here but you were more bothered about how I was feeling? It’s the same situation right here.”
“You went so still.”
“Shock.”
“Right.”
Isaiah tensed. The softly spoken word hadn’t been sarcastic, but it was laced with resignation. As if she’d decided to give up on trying to reach him. Like she thought he’d simply clammed up.
In hindsight, he could have handled the moment better at the mall. He’d just been so caught up in his battle with his cat that he’d been careless with her. Shock had contributed to that, yes, but it wasn’t an excuse. She’d been rocked by it all, too. Rocked and upset and dismayed.
Yet, she hadn’t pulled away from him at the mall. She’d hugged him. Comforted him. Put him first. Even now, she was still more concerned about his feelings than her own.
That was his Quinley. That was who she was.
He hadn’t thought she’d assume that he’d be so impacted by the sight of Lucinda and her fiancé together. He had figured that, given how she reacted whenever Zaire was near him, she’d understand that Isaiah’s only thought would be for Quinley.
He’d figured wrong.
And now he could almost see her taking an emotional step back, putting distance between them. He placed a finger beneath her jaw to tip up her head, catching her gaze with his own. “Don’t retreat from me.”
“I’m not. I just find it hard to believe that you’re fine. And I’m cautious of saying or doing the wrong thing here. If I saw Nazra pregnant with Zaire’s baby, I wouldn’t care. But you—”
“It didn’t hurt me to see Lucinda. It just took me off-guard.”
She gave him a tired, dubious look. “You more or less checked out. I had to guide you out of the store.”
“It wasn’t that I checked out. I was focused on trying to calm down my cat so he didn’t shift right there.”
Her brow pinched. “He wanted to savage the fiancé?” It was more of an assumption than a question.
Isaiah frowned. “What? No. He wanted to get to you.”
Her head flinched back in surprise. “Me?”
“He was pissed that she was near you, just as your cat is pissed whenever Zaire is in my general vicinity. It’s normal. Our animals each perceive them to be potential threats to the forming of an imprint bond. Then he sensed you were upset; sensed that your cat was mad. He did not like that, did not like that he couldn’t get to either of you to offer comfort, and so then he got more pissed.”
She didn’t appear totally convinced. “You didn’t say a word to me as we walked to the car, or as we were driving home. You dragged out your phone conversation with Deke—don’t deny it.”
“I did, yeah. I was still concentrating on calming down my cat. Hearing about mundane enforcer shit was distracting him.”
“He was really that mad?”
“Yes.” Isaiah caught the top of her ponytail in his fist. “The first time I saw her and her fiancé together, it was a hot stab to the fucking chest. But it was different this time.”
