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She spit out the last few words harshly. It ruffled Oliver's feathers briefly, but he told himself she was a mere mortal. She knew nothing of the internal conviction of a shifter with an obsession.
“I never meant to offend you,” he said, speaking carefully. “But you don't know shifters the way I do. This man clearly has a fixation on you. And I was there to protect you from him that night. Imagine if I wasn’t."
The mere thought of what Uziel would have done made Oliver’s bear whimper. He kept it shielded from Lillian, looking away for a moment and clearing his throat.
Lillian would still not budge. Her arms snaked even tighter around her body. “I can’t have a random person coming with me everywhere I go. How long do you intend on keeping this up? And do I have any say in it?"
Oliver wanted to bellow at her and say that, no, neither of them really had a choice from the moment they met. She was his mate whether they liked it or not.
Oliver realized that resistance was futile. The instinct to have her, to protect her, to worship every inch of her body and soul was indestructible, omniscient, and utterly undeniable.
Oliver moved around the desk and sat on the edge, feeling those spotlight eyes on him at all times. He noticed Lillian's eyelids flutter slightly, flustered by his proximity.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
She scowled. It was beautiful. “What?”
“I'm asking you if you've had dinner. You said you were working all day. How about I take you to one of the pubs in town? My treat, of course.”
Lillian was bemused, chuckling, but her arms slowly began to go slack, eventually falling to her side. She stood tall, her posture immaculate. Oliver was beginning to detect the zesty scent of her arousal seeping through her pores with his keen shifter nose.
“Yes, actually," she said, her body relaxing. “I am famished. It’s later than when I usually eat."
"Then I owe you that at the very least. Come.”
“The very least,” she said with a raised brow.
Oliver led her down the hallway to his gigantic garage. There was a plethora of cars, most of them blacked-out SUVs, some of them for his housekeepers and drivers. Three were his own that he sometimes took into town.
Lillian stood outside the black Honda Civic.
“This is what you drive?" she asked boldly.
“Sometimes,” he said, holding the door open for her. “I don't always like to stand out in town.”
She climbed into the passenger's seat, and Oliver went into the driver’s side. The ignition roared, and Lillian began to chuckle.
“What?" Oliver asked, smirking.
“Ronnetta told me that you are sort of like the manager of the town, a member of an affluent family," she said, looking at him directly. “Why do you not want to stand out?"
Oliver stepped on the gas, and the car rolled forward. The garage door slid open quietly, and he flicked on the headlights.
“It’s a lot of work being an alpha. People look to you to be a leader, but they also don’t want you to think you are better than them. I try to keep that balanced by not necessarily ripping through town in my Ferrari.”
Lillian looked thoughtful, then buckled her seat belt.
“Interesting,” she muttered.
Oliver drove out of his estate and headed toward town. It wasn't far, which he enjoyed. It was Friday, so it was lively in a cozy, small-town kind of way.
“So everyone in town knows who you are?" Lillian asked.
They were pulling into the pub, charmingly titled The Bear Claw. Oliver nodded.
“Mostly, I suppose. The majority of the people who work here are part of my sleuth. I am their alpha, so yes, they know me.”
“Does that mean that you always eat for free?” Lillian quipped.
