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The cat stepped forward and sniffed the devil, gently butting her nose with his. She haughtily lifted her chin, not easily charmed. He slowly circled her, sniffing and rubbing and chuffing.
She let her mouth gape open as she gave him a cautioning growl. Then she ran. He remained hot on her heels as they rushed through the grass, clambered over rocks, squeezed through gaps in the bushes, and skirted around trees.
They played for a while—pouncing, wrestling, rolling. Later, after lapping at the clean pond water, the pallas cat felt his human push for supremacy. The cat let out a disgruntled growl but didn’t fight. He pulled back, allowing his human half to surface.
Tate stared down at the devil as she licked at her paw. She might be a vicious little thing, but he thought she was cute as hell. Like all devil shifters, she was thick and squat, though more in proportion than full-blooded Tasmanian devils. She had a large head, long claws, a tail roughly half the length of her body, and forelegs which were a little longer than her hind legs. Her fur was pure black, but she had a single white patch on her chest that he wanted to stroke.
He didn’t dare touch her right then, though. Because as she locked her dark gaze with his, Tate could clearly sense what Havana had tried to tell him—the devil wasn’t ready for that yet. She was still reserving judgment for now.
“I’ll win back your trust,” he promised her.
The animal only sniffed. Then bones popped and snapped, and Havana stood before him.
“Your devil’s not going to make this easy for me, is she?”
Havana tilted her head, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Would you expect any different?”
“No, I guess not.” He pulled her close and swept his hand down her back. “Stay with me tonight.”
She slid her hands up his chest. “I’ll expect you to make it worth my while.”
He smiled and stroked her ass. “If you mean you want me to fuck you to sleep, I can do that.”
“I really don’t think you could, actually. I mean, I never fall asleep straight after sex.”
“Hmm, I accept your challenge.”
He also won.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
While Tate played his fingers through her hair, Havana studied the dessert menu. She’d eaten at the pride-owned steakhouse with Aspen and Bailey a few times in the past—the food was good, especially the desserts. This was the first time that Tate had brought her here, though.
Over the past week, he’d taken her to various places—most of which were owned by his pride. One morning, he’d taken her for breakfast at the café. Another day, it had been lunch at the deli. Yesterday evening, he’d taken her to the ice cream parlor. They’d already made plans to go to the movie theater this weekend. It was as if he was intent on making a distinct effort to spend time with her outside of sex. Or maybe he saw it as making up for lost time, since they hadn’t gone on actual dates during their fling.
Now, well, he was doing a good job of slotting himself into her life and ensuring he was commandeering as many hours of her day as he could. She hadn’t really given much thought into what kind of mate Tate would be. If she’d had to guess, she would have said he’d be solid and steady and overprotective. Which he in fact was. But she wouldn’t have guessed he’d be so … attentive.
It was little but touching things. Like always filling her tank with gas. Like keeping her favorite brand of coffee at his house. Like buying things for her to use while she was there—a replica of her toothbrush, a satin robe, her favorite snacks, her brands of shampoo and conditioner.
He’d also emptied one of his drawers “just in case” she wanted to stash her clothes into it rather than leave them in her overnight bag. His expression had been all “no pressure.” So she’d used the drawer. And then he’d emptied another “just in case” she needed more room for her stuff. It was kind of cute that he thought she didn’t know he was trying to move her into his house little by little.
He’d formally introduced her as his mate to pretty much every pride mate they brushed past, seemingly wanting Havana to get to know them and feel comfortable around them. They all appeared to be happy for him, and none had been rude or unwelcoming toward her.
He was always firing questions at her—some big, some small. But even more, he freely shared with her now. There was no holding back at all. No rules. No hesitations. No boundaries.
He was almost always touching her. Which should have felt uncomfortable because she wasn’t all that tactile. But with him, it didn’t bother her. It just felt right.
