I resist the urge to lean in and sniff her hair like a creep.
“A girl after my own heart,” Kelly remarks, winking at Cheyenne before looking to Javi and lifting her brows in question.
“Just a beer for me,” he drawls.
She nods, departing our table as quickly as she arrived while I turn to address my dream girl before Ares can beat me to the punch again.
“So, Cheyenne…”
“Chey,” she corrects, snapping her head in my direction.
My pulse skips when our eyes lock. “Chey,” I repeat.Apt, since she seems like the shy type. “I saw you out on the field today. You certainly know how to throw a punch.”
She shrugs a shoulder, giving me a brittle smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes.Not the reaction I was hoping for.
“Where’d you learn to spar like that?” I press.
“Javi taught me,” she replies curtly, averting her gaze toward the bar across the room, where her drink is currently being mixed.
I try not to take it personally that she’s more interested in watching the bartender pour her drink than chatting with me. Maybe she’s the type that needs a little bit of liquid courage before warming up to new people. It definitely can’t beme; I’m charming as fuck.
Deciding not to push it, I shift my attention to Javi instead. “Sounds like you’ll be right at home helping out with squad training,” I remark.
His lips slide into an easy grin– where Cheyenne is standoffish, Javi is gregarious as always. “I’m looking forward to it,” he replies with a smile. “I’ve never been part of a formal training program before, so I’m sure I’ll be picking up some new things from you guys, too.”
“I wanna see you spar with Madd,” Ares snickers, bumping his shoulder against our surly friend’s. Madd just rolls his eyes, taking another swig of his beer.
Kelly returns to deliver the drinks, and while Chey quietly sips hers, our conversation swiftly turns to me and the guys giving Javi a little shit about his new mate bond with my sister.It’s a rite of passage, really. As Lo’s brother, it’s my job to be protective, and since my friends also grew up with her, they’re the same way. It’s lighthearted and all in good fun, but still conveys the warning that if Javi everdoeshurt her, he’ll be facing the wrath of five Alphas.
We protect our own here in the six-pack alliance.
Though I supposehe’sone of us now, too, since his pack has officially been welcomed into the fold. They’ve moved into the former guest cabins on the old ski resort until they can get their new territory built out, which will be just south of my own pack’s territory. Our parents are thrilled that Lo will be settling so close to home.
Speaking of, it isn’t long before my sister and the girls stroll into the bar to join us. Cheyenne has noticeably loosened up, so when Lo comes over to greet Javi with a big smooch and we both avert our gazes, I seize the opportunity to try to engage her in conversation again.
“So, you’re an Aggies fan?” I ask slyly as I lift my beer.
Chey’s brows knit together in confusion, her freckled nose crinkling. “A what?”
I take a swig from the bottle, swallowing as I point the tip of it toward the logo on her t-shirt, which I finally was able to get a good look at. “Texas A&M,” I state. “Aggies football? I just assumed…”
“Oh,” she breathes, laughing softly to herself as she flips her hair back behind her shoulders and glances down at the front of her shirt, like she’s only just realized what she’s wearing. “No, I picked this up at a thrift shop,” she murmurs with a shrug.
Now that the side of her neck is exposed, my gaze unwittingly drops to the scar at the base of it.A mate marking.I first noticed it earlier today on the practice field, but when I asked my sister, she assured me Cheyenne is single. There’s no masculine scenton her, so the bond was obviously broken somehow, whether by choice or by death.
Is it bad to say I hope it’s the latter?
It’ll be harder to win her over if she’s still pining for some long-lost mate. And Iwillwin her over.
She must realize where my gaze has wandered, because she abruptly sweeps her hair back in front of her shoulders to cover her neck, her cheeks reddening.
Guess whoever gave her that mark isn’t dead, then.
If shifters survive losing their mate, their mark becomes a symbol of remembrance, not a source of embarrassment. The curiosity is killing me, but I just take another swig of my beer and act like I didn’t even see the mark on her skin, changing the subject before things get awkward.
“You should let me take you out sometime, show you around the territory,” I drawl, hitting her with my most charming grin.
Her amber eyes bounce up to meet mine. “What, like a date?” she snorts.
